The Bell Diaries
by Sunshine423
Summary: Similar to The Princess Diaries, you hear read about the life of Katie Bell and her misadventures. Includes Oliver Wood, Marcus Flint, FredGeorge Weasley and Alicia... er, Alicia.
1. The Bell Diaries

I revised this chapter a little. I didn't like some of it so I changed it. Sorry for the inconvience.

* * *

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

If you've read The Princess Diaries - seeing the movie does not count! - you'll get this way more than those who haven't. Although, you may enjoy it either way. Who am I kidding? You'll love it, I'm sure.

Any misspellings were made on purpose. Sorry if your name is or resemblesJohnathan.

I've come to the understanding that quite a few people like the Katie Bell/Oliver Wood coupling. I really don't care as long as Oliver Wood is with a girl. I have a few friends - Nicole - who seem to think Oliver Wood belongs with Percy. Fine, whatever. My point is just that I don't care about your preference. You can pretend it's not the Bell Diaries, but the Potter Diaries, or even the Weasley Diaries. Actually, I almost encourage it because it might make the story that much funnier. Well, I'm done. I just wanted to mention that the only character that cannot be changed is Oliver Wood - why would you want to anyway?

For the record, I am _so_ not like the way I wrote Katie Bell.

**THE BELL DIARIES**

With Katie Bell

* * *

**Monday, November 6  
Herbology**

Dear Diary,

So, I'm studying up on this potions test - because Professor Snape's a big meanie who's giving us a test _two days_ after the lesson. Anyway, I'm studying when Johnathan - love of my life, at that time - tells me he wants to see other people!

I, too busy thinking about what to add after a newt's eye and crow's foot, said, "You mean you weren't seeing them before?"

Jonathan blinked at me a couple of times and tried again. "Katie, I mean I want to _date_ other people."

That got my attention. "Johnathon," I paused dramatically, "Are you breaking up with me?"

He nodded - clearly, I might add. I was hoping maybe he was just trying to loosen up a neck cramp or something, but no, it was definitely a nod.

"Why?" I asked.

"You're just too... clingy, Katie. I need some space." He was speaking to me as if I was a child - he didn't even have the decency to look uncomfortable! The jerk.

And "clingy"! I am _so_ not clingy. Okay, so I did sit by him at every opportunity and walked with him to all of his classes and sent him love notes all times in between, but besides that, I was _totally_ not clingy!

And another thing! What's with this "Jonhathan" business? I mean, hello? It's John. You only get to go by your whole name when it's cool. Like Napoleon, or something. Not _Johnathan_.

Wow. This is really upsetting.

Couldn't he have waited to break up with me _after_ the game? That's right, we've got a Quidditch game tomorrow - actually, it's more like a scrimmage, but still - I should be thinking about that, but now my mind's going to be focused on John and relationships and my lack thereof.

Arg. I hate John.

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

I talked to Alicia about the "John" situation. I told her he thought I was too clingy and you know what she said? She said I _was_ too clingy!

Is the world turning on me? What's going on here? First, my so-called "boyfriend" decides to end our relationship, then my best friend supports him! Am I the only sane one left? Is it like that book by Arthur He-... uh... Arthur H. where everybody except that one guy suffers from a disease that lowers their IQ to 83. I think it was called IQ 83, or something.

Whoops, I got side tracked. That wasn't the point.

I don't remember my point, but I have a new point. John is stupid and doesn't deserve me, so it's a good thing we broke up. Now, I can find someone better suited for me. Yeah, that's right. Somebody else...

Who am I kidding? I miss John. Sure, he was a bit ego-centric and an occasional complainer, but I loved him - well, okay, I liked him a lot.

Why does this stuff always happen to me? I'm a good girl. I go to every class, followed by every practice, and I do my homework _almost_ always. I mean, seriously, somebody upstairs is screwing me over here!

Uh-oh. Snape just asked me what a bat's wing is good for.

Gotta go.

* * *

**8:35 pm**

Dear Diary,

Alright, I cave. I'm too clingy.

It's only one thing if John says I'm clingy, but when my friends agree - I asked Fred and George at dinner - then I know I've got a problem.

So, here's what I'm going to do - not be clingy.

Yes, it really is that simple. You see, I know how I was being clingy, so I'll just stop doing those things.

For example, I'll stop hanging around the same people all the time, I'll stop hugging friends at random, and I'll even stop buying the same shirts as other people just so I can be all, "Hey, you shop at English Pigeon, too?" - for clothes other than the uniform, of course.

You heard it here first, diary, I'm gonna change into a stick-free me. (It's like a commercial!)

* * *

**Tuesday, November 7  
****Noon**

Dear Diary,

Oh my gosh! This whole "changing my ways" thing is tougher than I thought. I almost screwed up right off the bat when I went to wake up Alicia, Angelina, and a couple other Gryffindor girls - like I usually do - but I suddenly remembered my pledge and refrained.

Then - _can you imagine!_ - they yelled at me because they weren't used to their alarms waking them up, so they were late to class!

I mean, come on, they're the ones that wanted me to change. Why am _I_ suddenly to blame?

And, let me tell you, that was just the start of the day. I've also grouped with Marcus Flint for my Transfiguration project, made Neville cry because I decided to just be honest with him and told him that sweater _does_ make him look fat, and now I'm sitting with a bunch of first years during lunch to "broaden my horizons."

I think I'm doing great, but my friends hate me, now. I'm going to owl Dear Abby to tell me what to do.

* * *

Here's what I wrote to Dear Abby:

Dear Abby,

My boyfriend of 4 months broke up with me because I was too clingy. My "friends" backed up his claims. I've since made attempts to change, which they've criticized!

What should I do?

Helpless at Hogwarts

Dear Abby's reply:

Dear Helpless,

Obviously your friends don't rightly appreciate you. If they're really your friends, they'll like you for being you, not by changing.

My advice is to resume you normal habits and if your friends drop you, they weren't your friends in the first place.

Dr. Abby

P.S. I want componsation for all the biscuits this owl ate off my plate!

* * *

**After the scrimmage**

Dear Diary,

Who does Oliver Wood think he is? - yelling at me like that!

If anyone should be yelled at, it's whoever hit me in the face with the quaffel!

Hello? I wasn't looking, therefore, you should NOT throw the ball! What, am I the only logical thinker on this team?

Oliver Wood kept me after for a whole hour after the scrimmage to do drills and "regain my focus." I mean, the guy's cute, but as if I didn't have better things to do?

Anyway, I'm taking the advice from Dear Abby and have resumed my regular routine of being "clingy." You know what Fred and George told me today? - well, of course you don't, you're a book. They told me they don't think I'm clingy! They never thought I was clingy. They only said I was because they like to lie. If I wasn't so happy about not being clingy, I'd be really mad. But I'm not because I'm happy! Yay!

Although, Jon did break-up with me over the whole clingy thing, so maybe I'll be less clingy in my romantic relationships.

Pff. I doubt I'll have another romantic relationship for a loooong time.

* * *

**Wednesday, November 8  
****Charms**

Dear Diary,

Oh my gosh! Marcus just asked me out! - like on a date! I was in transfiguration class, working on the project with him - since we were still partnered from my short-lived, re-me period - when he was all,

"So, Katie, I heard you're not with Johnathan anymore."

"Nope. And his real name's John, he's just too stupid to admit it."

I thought that was a really dumb statement on my part, but Marcus started laughing really hard - I swear, if he was drinking milk, it would've come shooting out of his nose like an avalanche.

"That's hilarious."

"Apparently."

"Uh... what are you doing tonight?"

This should've been the first - no, second - clue about what Marcus was getting at.

"Well, I've gotta write a potions paper and review some Magical Creatures notes - oh! And Oliver Wood is giving me some 'extra' lessons after practice." I sighed. "But after that I'm just going to lounge in the common room. Why?"

Marcus cleared his throat - as if he was about to say something important. "If you'd like to, I mean..., only if you'd _want_ to, would you be interested in going out with me?"

This was Marcus Flint we are talking about. I mean, _Marcus Flint_. Can you say "ew"?

But the poor guy said it so loud, other tables were watching us and waiting for my answer. I couldn't say no and embarrass the guy, even if he can be a jerk sometimes. Even John had the decency to break up with me when we were virtually alone. I'd also backed myself into a corner by admitting I'd be free later tonight.

So, I did the only thing I could do: I accepted.

Oh, man. What have I gotten into?

* * *

**10:42 pm**

Worst date ever. Too upset to write. Going to sleep.

* * *

**Thursday, November 9  
****9:10 am**

Dear Diary,

Okay, so here's the worst date in the History of Hogwarts: (I am totally adding this to that book)

First off, Marcus thought it would be sweet to take a romantic broomstick ride to Hogsmeade. I was like, okay, whatever to get this date moving.

It started out fine - I mean, I'm a Quidditch chaser, riding brooms is part of what I do - but then he started going faster and faster then so fast I almost fell off the bloody broom!

So, we arrived at Hogsmeade in about 2 seconds, and I asked him where we were eating. He said it was a surprise - and, boy, what a surprise it was. He took me to this old dingy bar where some cloaked guy with long fingernails - Struwwel Peter! - took our orders - which Marcus made _for_ me, I might add.

Marcus talked a lot about Quidditch. He reminded me of Oliver Wood, only without the cute face and attractive personality. Anyway, I found the conversation kind of dull because I totally don't believe in any of the "tricks" Marcus does.

Finally, our orders came, I was really hungry at that point, but one look at our meals made my stomach do a 360. Marcus had ordered us broiled rat topped with this mushroom/garlic gravy - explaining his terrible breath all the time... although not his teeth (gag). I didn't want to be rude, so I tried the "house specialty" and quickly dashed to the bathroom.

It was really, really gross! It took two tubes of toothpaste to get rid of the smell and I can still taste it every time I burp.

After I returned from the bathroom, I told Marcus I wanted to go home.

He gave me his best puppy-dog face - which somewhat resembled an old bulldog - and pleaded with me to stay. I said I would, but I wanted to be back in an hour.

I guess Marcus felt his night coming to a close and rushed me over to this carnival-like place that was in just for this week. He wanted to show off his "mad throwing skills," but he was out of money so he actually asked for money from me! I mean, he did win me this adorable blue teddy bear, but it was like I paid for it.

Then, he wanted me to battle with him on this narrow beam with giant Q-tips. Apparently it was derived from some muggle show - Gladiators or something. Anyway, again I agreed, and again I regretted it.

He led me up there and handed me the Q-tip without any instruction. He got up on the other side, then I heard this "ding" and Marcus whacked me! He WACKED me and I fell in the freezing water underneath us!

Oh, I was mad, let me tell you. But I got my revenge. I climbed back onto the beam as Marcus stood there laughing at me. I waited for that little "ding" and, this time, I countered Marcus' attack, faked to the right, then toppled him over with a jab at his left. He lost his balance and went over the side.

I couldn't help but laugh at him helplessly trying to dig himself from the cold, wet pool he'd landed in. Marcus was really upset. You could totally tell he did not like being taken out by a girl - thank you 4th year kendo lessons!

We decided to go back to Hogwarts at that point, soggy and not at all satisfied with the evening.

As if the night wasn't bad enough, Fred and George couldn't help but comment on my dripping exterior. (Abby was _so_ right about them not being my true friends.)

After I showered for the second time - third if you count that "bath" at the carnival - I ran into Oliver Wood on my way to lounge in the common room.

"How was your _date_?"

He said it like that, too - italics and all.

"Well, I wasn't hit in the face by a quaffel, so I guess it wasn't all bad."

Oliver grinned - he actually grinned! I did not expect that. Don't get me wrong - he has a really nice grin, I just didn't expect it.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you earlier. It was uncalled for."

Well, that just about floored me. _Oliver Wood_ apologizing to _me_? Is the world turning inside out? (And I'm not talking about the whole revolving thing.)

"That's okay, Oliver Wood. I should've been paying better attention."

It never hurts to suck up a little, ya know?  
"I understand... you broke up with Johnathan?"

"_He_ broke up with _me_. Actually, let's just call it mutual."

He grinned again.

"Well, my point is that there's probably a lot on your mind right now, so I'm sorry for stressing you out."

He was looking kind of uncomfortable at this point and I was worried he might hurl. I _was_ wearing my new Casey Clive boots. The last thing I wanted was for them to be covered in bile and stomach acid - ick.

"Uh... thanks, Oliver Wood, but I'm over it. Really."

"I guess that makes sense. You did go out with Marcus, after all."

It suddenly hit me - the perfect excuse! I could've just told Marcus I wasn't over John yet and I would've had a legit reason not to go with him! Maybe then I could've kept my powder blue Versace dress from becoming an algae-green disaster.

I must've said this out loud because Oliver Wood started laughing at me.

I got a little indignant. "Oh, so you could've just told him off?"

"Yes, Katie, I could have. I don't have as kind a heart as you."

A little voice inside me went "Ahhhh... that was sweet..."

"Well, you better get your sleep. I've scheduled a morning practice tomorrow."

Then that little voice died.

"Practice makes perfect," he added before heading off for the boys' wing.

Geez, and we were getting along so well. Leave it to Oliver Wood to ruin it with talk of Quidditch practice.

Yuck.

* * *

**History of Magic**

Dear Diary,

Marcus is not talking to me. He's my Transfiguration partner and he's not talking to me! I had to do the whole project by myself because he claimed to have a side ache - more like a bruised ego. It was some physical injury he sustained, although he wouldn't tell me how. (Gee, I wonder).

Anyway, I finished the lesson and headed over to History of Magic - which I am currently in the middle of. I told Alicia about my diarrhea - whoops, I meant dilemma (it was a misprint, I swear!) - and she just told me I'd have to work through it. We change partners next week, anyway.

Darn, that reminds me. I have that stupid Potions paper due next week. I've only got 12 of the 30 minimal feet written, and that includes the works cited foot. Freakin'-A! There's Quidditch practice everyday this week, too. When will I have time?

And another thing: Oliver Wood sat next to me during lunch today. I'm beginning to think he wants something from me. But what? I already lent him my Magical Creatures notes.

Class just ended. I'll write more later.

* * *

(Note taped into diary)

_This sucks. We have practice again!_

Oh, I know. I could be writing my Potions paper with those extra hours.

_Or sleep._

Totally.

_Well, at least you have Oliver wrapped around your little finger. The rest of us don't have that luxury._

What are you talking about?

_Are you serious? You haven't noticed how Oliver pays you so much attention?_

Yeah. It's because I suck so bad and he's trying to make me better.

_Geez! Katie, Oliver likes you!_

No.

_Yes._

No way! Not possible.

_Katie, yes. He sits next to you at lunch, he borrows your notes, and he has you constantly stay after for "private" lessons._

Okay, 1.) Oliver Wood just needs somewhere to sit, like the rest of us, 2.) he needed those notes for the test coming up, and 3.) those are "extra" lessons. Like I said, I've been terrible lately and need the help - and "private" lessons sounds dirty, we _are_ practicing!

_Katie, you are in total denial._

Am not.

_Are too._

Am not.

_Are too! You're proving it right now._

Am not!

_Forget it. Just notice how he acts towards you in practice. Then we'll talk._

(End of note)

* * *

**5:00 pm**

Dear Diary,

Alicia is totally taking one of those muggle drugs. There is no way Oliver Wood likes me. No - way.

I kept my eyes open, like she said, and Oliver Wood looked at me the same as everyone else - except when he caught me looking at him, then he gave me this "why are you looking at me?" look, so I stopped.

Our "extra" lessons were cancelled today, because he said he had to study for the Magical Creatures test. (In your FACE, Alicia!)

I talked with her in my room after practice. She was still adamant about the Oliver Wood issue. In fact, it gained some importance, even.

"He loves you!"

"Oh my gosh, Alicia! Are you dense? We're barely friends."

"Don't give me that hogwash." She gasped. "You like him, too! That's why you don't want to admit his love!"

I rolled my eyes. "Alicia, you are so far in right field-"

"No, you like him! I can sense it."

"Okay, Miss Cleo," I rebutted.

"Are you telling me you don't find Oliver Wood attractive?"

"Oh, hell yes. He's a hottie, but not boyfriend material. He's in love with Quidditch. I don't think he's even heterosexual, anymore."

"Are you saying Johnathan _was_ boyfriend material?"

"Hey, that's over. Although I admit, he was better scarf material than boyfriend."

"Okay, but Oliver is way better. Sure, he's crazy about Quidditch, but _you_ aren't?"

"No."

"Well, can't you get past that in the name of love?"

I paused to fully comprehend her statement.

"Are you playing matchmaker ore something?"

Alicia turned red and dropped the subject. I'm beginning to suspect some foul play - and I'm not talking about my Quidditch socks.

* * *

**Friday, November 10  
****Defense Against the Dark Arts**

Dear Diary,

I'm very excited/nervous about the game today. I can't even write...

Eek! I'll have to write later.

* * *

**11:24 pm  
****Hospital Wing**

Dear Diary,

Alicia was right! Oliver Wood likes me! I'm just- I can't- Oh my gosh! Oliver Wood likes me - ME!

I can't breathe.

I need to calm down.

Okay. Pink fluffy bunnies, Dominoes Pizza, Snape in a Spiderman outfit - okay, I'm good.

Let me explain.

We lost the game against Ravenclaw. Our team had racked up 160 points against Ravenclaw's 10, when, out of the blue, a green devil on a broom whips past Oliver Wood by a hair - I swear, it was so close. Now, the game was 160-20 and we were still in the lead, but if Ravenclaw caught the snitch at this point, we would lose - and after 160 points worth _without_ the snitch! Of course, as luck would have it, the Ravenclaw seeker grabbed hold of that golden bugger before our Harry, ending the game 170-160, them.

Oliver Wood was seriously angry, but he didn't show it. You just... knew it. Harry was upset, too. What am I saying? The whole team was upset. We shouldn't have lost to Ravenclaw. We just _shouldn't_ have. It's like pigs flying, it doesn't happen - whoops, I guess I've seen it done here - but, _this_ just doesn't.

Anyway, everyone had showered, gone to their rooms, etc., when it occurred to me - where was Oliver Wood?

I went back to the locker room and saw a red and gold heap on the floor - our captain.

"Hey." I sat down across from him. "Are you okay?"

"Did we lose?"

I thought about lying to him, but that could create more practice, so I just stayed silent.

"Then I am not okay."

I sighed and looked around the room. _Hmm... dented locker_ - I looked at him - _broken hand... I see... Broken Hand!_

I gasped and reached for his hand. "Your hand!"

"Eh," he muttered, quickly pulling his arm away from me and bumped his elbow into the cement wall. "Ow!"

We paused for a moment, then laughed at the patheticness of the situation - well, that's what _I_ was laughing at. I hope he wasn't laughing at the zit I was developing under my chin. Gasp! What if he was!

"I'm sorry, Katie," he said, quietly, lifting his head up, "I'm not being a very good sport, am I?"

"It's okay. We all get down about things sometimes."

He scoffed. "I can't believe I missed that bloody quaffel. It's the biggest ball out there!"

He proceeded to pound his head against the wall.

"Stop! Stop!" I held his head straight by grabbing his nose so he'd stop pounding it - his head, I mean. "It's not your fault. If you're going to blame anyone, it's Harry."

"Katie!" Although it sounded more like, "Kadee" because I was still holding his nose.

"Oh, you don't think Harry could've caught the snitch first? And what about me? I missed a crucial pass that could've put us at 160 before them. Actually, I missed that pass because a bludger whipped right past my head. Fred didn't make it over to me fast enough so let's blame him. Actually, maybe that was George. Oh, who cares? Let's blame them both for being twins."

After I finished ranting - and let go of his nose - Oliver Wood grinned that cute little grin of his and said, "You're right, Katie. It's a team game and I can't individualize it like that."

"What? I just meant we _all_ sucked. But now that you mention it, it is important to realize it's not about losing - it's about losing as a _team_."

He chuckled. "I'll have to add that into my next pep talk."

"Oh, yeah, that'll earn us a cup."

We just sat in silence for a while. It felt like I was in a library - I couldn't say anything unless I was asking for a book.

Ooh! That reminds me, I have to get my Charms textbook back from Fred. Sorry, that was off-track.

I finally decided to break the tension, "So, let's get that hand fixed. You'll need it for practice tomorrow." (I'm still kicking myself for saying that, by the way.)

I stood and helped him up. He was smiling from ear to ear. (I totally didn't get why at that time but I totally get it now.)

We walked down to the hospital wing and had Madame Pomfrey repair Oliver Wood's hand. I guess he didn't damage it too bad, but enough that he shouldn't use it tomorrow - I smell freedom!

We went back to Gryffindor tower. Just outside the door, he stopped me.

"Katie, I really appreciate you... helping me out like this."

"Sure, what are friends for?" (For the record, I feel _sooo_ stupid for saying that.)

He looked like he was going to say something, dropped it, then changed his mind again. "Katie, I don't want to be friends with you."

"Uh... okay. If that's how you feel, you know, whatever."

I turned to go but he took my hand.

"No, that's not what I mean. Katie..., I like you."

From behind me, I heard the fat lady go "ooh."

"Okay. I like you, too."

I was about to go again, but he kept holding me there.

"No, Katie. I LIKE you."

I stood there silently, clearly not getting it, so he leaned down and pecked me on the lips.

My eyes must have popped out of my skull. I could not believe he'd just kissed me. Oliver Wood just kissed me! I mean, sure, it was just a peck and his lips barely touched mine, but the meaning was totally there.

Several gasps were heard from the peanut gallery - a.k.a. the talking portraits.

"Do you understand, Katie?"

I blinked at him a few times. "Oliver Wood, you _like_ me?"

He laughed. "Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?"

I guess it was because I blacked out at that point and the next thing I know, I'm in the hospital wing. I asked Madame Pomfrey what happened and she said, all she knew was Oliver Wood hauled me here over his shoulder like a bearskin rug and said I'd fainted.

Okay, Oliver Wood carried me, and that was sweet, but "like a bearskin rug"? Hasn't he ever seen Gone With the Wind? _That's_ romantic. If we're going to start dating, he'll have to pick up on these things.

Ah! What am I saying!

* * *

**Saturday, November 11  
****7:55 am**

Dear Diary,

Did you know Draco has a skin condition and that's why he's so pale?

I was making my bed and preparing to leave when I see Draco with, like, 1000 zits on his face. He was rubbing this greenish-yellow cream that kinda resembled phlegm, into his skin. Then it just peeled off! It was disgusting! I felt like I was watching Animal Planet: A Day in the Life of a Snake.

Hey. I just got why that suits Draco so well. Heh heh. He's a little, puberty-stricken snake. Heh heh. Loser.

I went back to my room this morning. As I was walking through the halls, I got all these funny looks. I checked in the bathroom mirror but I didn't have anything on my face. I don't know why people keep staring at me like that. And they keep giggling. What's with that?

You know what George said? He said, "So, that's what those 'extra' lessons were for."

He obviously meant that really nice goal I made yesterday, so I thanked him and said, "Oliver Wood just thought I needed some extra practice. But I did score, so I guess it was worth it."

Fred, who was with him, of course, started laughing - and I think it was at me! What did I say? Was something on my teeth! I gotta go check!

* * *

**8:02 am**

Dear Diary,

Nothing in my teeth.

I have to write my Potions paper. Our topic is on the origins of moonshine. I figured it was the moon, but apparently it's some muggle drink. Maybe I'll sample some - you know, for my paper, of course. I better get to work on it. Later.

2:30 pm

Dear Diary,

Oh my gosh! Somehow word got out Oliver Wood kissed me! Everyone is talking about it! That's why they're looking at me and whispering. I'm gossip!

It was the fat lady! I know it. She must have blabbed to the other paintings and students or something. Now, everyone thinks we're a couple! Even Marcus! Who yelled at me, I might add. He actually yelled at me, for supposedly cheating on him. Excuse me? We were going out? After that disaster of a date, I thought it was clear we were over. I mean, we soaked each other in an icy pool after battling with giant Q-tips. Does that sound like the start of a great relationship? I don't think so. At least we're not project partners anymore.

My other problem is Oliver Wood. I mean, I like him and everything, but he's my captain. If we go out and the same thing happens with him that happened with Jonathan, I can kiss my Quidditch career good-bye. He can bench me for the rest of the season if he wants to.

I don't know what to do.

I'm gonna go ask Alicia.

* * *

**Saturday Night**

Dear Diary,

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

I love that song. That peanuts commercial with that dancing peanut and this song is the best commercial ever. I still have to put it on my I-Pod.

So, I talked to Alicia and she says I should go for it. (Go for what? This is a relationship, not a donut.) Fred/George was with us and warned me not to get too clingy again and drive him away. They also asked me to get Oliver Wood to cancel morning practices. As if. I'm not even sure we're officially a couple. But their first comment has me worried.

What if I'm too clingy? I mean, I totally have a problem. The other day I found myself washing John's laundry! I did that when we were going out, but now that we've broken up, I should _not_ be doing that! Alicia said I shouldn't have done that then, either - but, whatever. That is not the issue here. The issue is... oh, shoot! I forgot again!

Oh, right - I can't be clingy. So, what I'll do is just keep Oliver Wood at a distance. Then he won't find me too clingy because I can't be clingy if I'm not even next to him! This is a super good idea. I'm gonna try it out tonight.

Oliver Wood wants to take me to a Quidditch game tonight. (That guy just can't get away from that freaking game.) We're going to meet in the common room in, like, 2 minutes so I should probably go now. I'll report back later.

* * *

**Midnight**

Dear Diary,

Oh my gosh! I just realized what I told Fred! I can't believe I said that! I'm going to suffocate myself with my pillow, now.

* * *

**Sunday, November 12  
****11:37 am**

Dear Diary,

Ahhhhhh... Oliver Wood is so cute. I thought he was going to take me to some knock 'em, sock 'em semi-pro game, but he took me to a little league Quidditch game. All these little witches and wizards were playing. It was so adorable! There was even this little Asian boy who was so cute I wanted to kidnap him - but I didn't, you know, just in case anyone asks.

After the game, Oliver Wood took me to the same carnival Marcus did, only this time there was no fighting. We went on the rollercoasters and the free fall ride, like, a million times. It was so fun. And he won me a super-soft, pink bunny at the shooting gallery - way better than that blue teddy bear, I bought from Marcus. Then, to top it off, we rode the Ferris Wheel, which was _so_ romantic. I felt like Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed, er, except I have - although not by Michael Vartan, ow, ow.

By far, Oliver Wood is the best boyfriend ever. He beats the heck out of Marcus and Johathan. And, by the way, Oliver Wood is a cool whole name and should, therefore, be said as a whole. Unlike John and Marc - as I will now refer to him as.

Oh no! I totally forgot about the whole "keep a distance from O.W." thing. Now he's going to think I'm clingy! I have to remember this time. I must remember. Remember, remember, remember, remember...

* * *

**11:50 am**

What was I trying to remember? Oh, yeah. Got it.

* * *

**6:25 pm  
****Hospital Wing - again**

Dear Diary,

So, I was finishing up my Potions paper (I am finally finished!), when Harry walks in and asks me how everything is going with Oliver Wood. I told him everything was going fine, but it's only been, like, two days. He gave me this expression that I don't know what to make of. Happy? Concerned? Constipated? I have no idea.

You know, I think Harry might be gay. I mean, it's totally there. He's very sensitive. He's constantly surrounded by guys - Ron, Draco, Hermione. And he never had a father figure - 73 of homosexuals grew up without a dad. (A/N: Not an actual statistic.) Plus, why was he asking me about Oliver Wood? Does he like him? Does he see me as a threat? He should. I'm the _girl!_ Although, like I said before, Oliver Wood's sexuality is kind of iffy sometimes.

Wow. You know what? I think I've been watching too many soap operas. Next thing you know, I'll be claiming Fred isn't George's brother, it's his clone, He-Who-Isn't-Named is really Harry Potter's father, Percy was once a woman - which I've already had some suspicions about.

Geez, I got way off topic again. I was going to write about my failed plan to keep my distance before I got side-tracked by Harry's sexuality and dramatic plot twists. Anyway, Oliver Wood bumps into me just as I was leaving the library. He said he was rescheduling practice for 5:30 instead of 4:00. I said, okay and was about to go on my way, but he wasn't done talking to me.

"Are you heading back to the Gryffindor common room?"

"Yep. I'm done with my homework for the weekend."

"Great. I'm heading there, too. I've got to tell Fred and George about the rescheduling."

So, we started walking beside each other down the hall. I remembered the "non-clingy" oath to myself and moved away from Oliver Wood. He seemed slightly confused, then moved with me. So, I quickened my pace, but he quickened his as well! I broke out in a sprint and he followed me, matching my speed.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Don't you want to walk with me?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you running?"

"I'm not... running." It was getting harder to breathe.

He stopped and I turned to face him as I was still running. Big mistake. I heard him yell, "Stop!" but not early enough to prevent my head-on collision with the concrete wall at the end of the hallway. I must have blacked out again, because the next thing I know, I'm in the same cot as last time and Madame Pomfrey is hovering over my face.

She's not ugly, but seeing her face right in mine scared the daylights out of me and I instinctively sat up. We bonked heads and I was painfully aware of the giant egg bulging from my forehead. She was well aware of it too, since it nearly knocked her eye out. I quickly apologized then collapsed back onto the bed due to the extreme headache I was suffering from.

Someone said, "Is she okay?"

I looked over to see who it was - two Oliver Woods! I almost passed out. I mean, one was bad enough, but to have two on your case about your broomstick maneuvering was enough to make a grown man cry. Although, in their defense, they were both really hot and I felt my brain swimming in thoughts of Oliver Woods.

Madame Pomfrey made me swallow something that tasted like broiled rat - which I now know the taste of, thanks to Marc - but it made me feel instantly better. Except I was a little upset to see the other Oliver Wood disappear.

"Katie? How do you feel?"

"I feel like I ran into a wall."

Madame Pomfrey gave me this, "oh, you" kind of look and walked off. Then it was just Oliver Wood and I - hey, that could be a movie title.

"Does it hurt anymore?"

"No. I've got a hard head."

Oliver Wood sighed. "Don't you like me, Katie?"

"Of course! You're the best boyfriend I've ever had."

He smiled briefly, then looked concerned again. "Then why were you running from me?"

"I wasn't-"

He can do a really good Frau look when he wants to, and that's what he was doing right then.

"Okay, I just wanted to give you some space."

"I had plenty of space."

"You say that now, but later you'll be all, 'I don't like you anymore because you're too clingy and wouldn't give me enough space.' And I'll be all, 'I did too, but you said you had plenty of space.' 'Well, now you're over-crowding me.' 'Am not.' 'Are too.' 'Am not.' 'Are-' "

"Okay, I get the point." He paused. "You know, I'm not Johnathan."

"Well, duh. You're Oliver Wood." I stopped to consider this. "Oh, right. You meant metaphorically."

He smiled - so cute! "Katie, I'm going to come back when you're feeling better. You're excused from practice today."  
"Oh, yeah. What time is it?"

He checked his watch - him and his silly muggle fascination. "6:52."

"Oliver Wood, did you miss practice!"

He smiled and got up. "I couldn't just leave you in the hallway. I'll need you for our scrimmage, Thursday." He walked off. "Get better."

"Thanks," I muttered, barely audible.

Oliver Wood missed practice for me! Oh my gosh! This relationship really _is_ getting serious - and in only two days! This is amazing. I can't stop smiling. Ha ha. Too bad, Harry Potter. Oliver Wood is _so_ mine.

* * *

**Monday, November 13  
****Arithmacy**

Dear Diary,

I told Alicia about how Oliver Wood skipped practice for me. I couldn't help but gush over how he loves me, etc., and I think I added some details that didn't actually happen, but she just looked at me really disgusted and walked away.

Excuse me? Best friend, I was talking to you. Whatever. She obviously has some sorta bug up her butt. If I paid more attention in Magical Creatures I'd probably know what kind.

So, anyway, Oliver wants to play chess with me later on. I've never played chess before. I'm super excited! They've got all those cool names, like, um... King, Queen, Pope, Joker, Castle-guy... hmmm... you know, I don't think that's entirely right. It doesn't matter though. I'm sure Oliver Wood will know. He'll tell me tonight.

Whoops. Did Professor McGonagall just ask me something? Gotta go.

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

I finally turned in my paper! Freedom! It was about 6 feet short and I forgot to write the works cited foot, but I'm sure that won't be too damaging on my grade. I mean, it was just what lists all the sources I used so I won't get sued for plagiarizing. I highly doubt it will be that big of a deal.

Only 5 hours until Oliver Wood and I play chess! I've gotta go find some dice.

* * *

**9:44 pm**

Dear Diary,

Did you know you don't play chess with dice? I totally did not know that. I brought my bright pink, mega-lucky, nine-sided dice, and Oliver Wood was like, "Great! You brought the dice!"

So, we were playing for at least half an hour, when Ron Weasley comes up and said, "What are doing? You don't play chess with dice."

I really wish he hadn't come right then because I was totally winning - I rolled 3 eights in a row! Oliver Wood asked him how to play and - oh my gosh! - chess is really hard! You have to remember how all the little pieces move and you can only take out some of your opponent's... short thingies by moving it a certain way - I think. I am _so_ confused. Chess was not fun. (Especially after Oliver Wood beat me three times - at least, I think he did. Can you jump the queen?)

Anyway, I'm just going to stick with games that actually include dice - like Monopoly and Scrabble.

* * *

So, how'd you like it so far? Feel free to review - but nothing from Napoleon! I'm serious, that is one, mean dead guy.

Strewwel Peter is a creepy guy from German-children stories - just so you know.

Thanks for reading. : )


	2. The Bell Diaries II

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

Well, chapter 2 is finally up. It took longer than I thought. Sorry.

In case you were wondering, this _is_ a fan fic so even if Katie Bell isn't necessarily this ditzy - but since she's fiction I'm not sure howone would prove that -it would ruin the story by portraying her as otherwise. Sorry if I was rude, just thought I throw that out there, though.

Enjoy the chapter. There will be more... unfortunately - writing really zaps your time, you know?

* * *

**THE BELL DIARIES  
**CHAPTER II

**Tuesday, November 14  
****Magical Creatures**

Dear Diary,

I think Alicia's pregnant. Nothing else could explain her irrational, crabby attitude.

I mean, last night, before I was going to bed, Oliver Wood kissed me goodnight and she totally flipped making comments like, "Get a room," and "Gross!" and "Buy me a pizza." Although, I think that last comment was made by Fred or George.

What's her problem? What am I doing that annoys her so much? Wait. What am I talking about? It's not me - it's totally her.

Geez, why'd she have to get all pregnant and crabby?

* * *

**Transfiguration**

Dear Diary,

It just occurred to me - who could be the father? Alicia hasn't been dating anyone except that Peter guy and he's ugly so I really doubt it's him.

GASP! What if it's Fred or George? She might have a little red-haired boy pulling pranks and making clones leading to the reign of the Dark Side and the destruction of the Federation.

Oops. That last part was Star Wars.

But still, Alicia isn't the Virgin Mary. Somebody must have impregnated her. But who...?

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

It was Marcus Flint! (Ew...) I was spying on her in Transfiguration and she totally gave him that "You're the one who did this to me, jerk face" kind of look.

Of course, that also may have been because of the Go-gurt he spilled on her robes. I'm still suspicious though.

She yelled at me again in the hallway, spouting some nonsense about cheating and string, but I don't know how you'd cheat at anything with string.

She is so obviously cracked. That can't be healthy for the baby.

* * *

**Still in Potions**

Dear Diary,

My curiosity is killing me! Who is her baby's daddy? Would Maury help?

Maybe I should just ask her.

* * *

**Dark Arts**

Dear Diary,

Alicia and I had a nice, long conversation in lunch and now I understand everything - no thanks to Maury. That guy needs better service. I kept getting a computer asking me to hold then "Uptown Girl" played in the background. I never would have pegged Maury as a Billy Joel fan.

1.) Alicia is not pregnant. She fell out of her chair when I asked her - and I admit it, I laughed. She said she was really moody because Peter just broke up with her.

2.) She was mad at me because Peter claimed I had "strung him along" - that's what she meant by cheating with string! - and that's why he broke up with her. Because he _loved _me.

Wow. That blew me away. I mean, I know I just streaked my hair and started using a blacker mascara, but I totally did not expect people to start falling in love with me right away. Wicked.

3.) Alicia was also upset every time she saw me with Oliver Wood because of what I'd supposedly done behind his back - which is play "patty-cake" with half the 6th year boys.

That was a total lie. I don't even _like_ patty-cake. French toast is way better - especially with maple syrup and butter. Mmm...

So, I'm going to get to the bottom of this and find out who is spreading these heinous rumors. Well, right after I find out if Brad really loves Amber or is just marrying her for the million dollars she recently inherited after the suspicious death of her possibly _not_ biological, Nazi father in CBE's One Life to Give.

* * *

**5:50 pm**

Dear Diary,

I told Oliver Wood what's going on and he said he'd ask around.

What a sweetie. How many guys do you know that look killer in a tangerine Speedo _and _will seek out the culprit who muddied the reputation of the girl he lo- ... likes a lot?

Not many, I tell you. That's why I'm going to use him for all he's worth. Bwahahaha.

I'm just kidding. I had him do my Magical Creatures homework last night, but that was just once and I needed the help. (Who knew a Sphinx was a creature? I thought it was a haircut.)

Gotta go. Oliver Wood just came back - hopefully with some news.

* * *

**7:03 pm**

Dear Diary,

Peter was paid off by Marcus Flint! I knew ugly people weren't to be trusted.

(A/N: My apologizes to ugly people everywhere.)

Apparently, Marcus is still sore about me "breaking up with him" and wanted pay back so he conned Draco into giving him money then paid Peter to break-up with Alicia and tell her it was because he loved me! What a scumbag - and rather cunning. I'm impressed in a very upset and horrified kind of way.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, Marcus also told people about my supposed relations with the upperclassmen.

That totally explains the girls' dirty looks and the guys' passing me their dorm numbers. I just thought they were meant for someone else so I kept passing them along.

When will Marcus stop? It is so clear by now that I am dating Oliver Wood and don't even like Marcus. (And "break up"? There was never anything to break!)

Oliver Wood was really angry. He looked like he might blow a gasket - I don't know what that is but I've heard Harry Potter use it a couple of times.

I guess if anything good could've come out of this, it would be seeing my beau all upset over my welfare.

Except that he was partly upset over the new brooms Slytherin had purchased leaving his Nimbus in the dust. But I'm sure he was mostly upset over me - mostly.

I've gotta come up with a way to get back at Marc. But how…?

You know, I should just ask Fred and George. They're good at this kind of thing.

* * *

**Wednesday, November 15  
****Transfiguration**

Dear Diary,

I asked Fred and George at breakfast what I could do to get back at Marcus. They mentioned several different suggestions but they got so involved with talking about it, I think they forgot I was there.

That's fine, though. I decided to just employ them - like Marcus did Peter - and told them to do whatever they thought best.

This is a perfect plan. And I don't even have to worry about it back-firing because this is Fred and George we're talking about. They are _totally_ trust-worthy.

* * *

**History of Magic**

Dear Diary,

A few minutes ago, Draco asked me if Oliver Wood has gotten to third base yet. I didn't know what he was talking about, but I didn't want to look like a fool so I said yes.

I mean, he probably has. Oliver Wood _is_ very good at sports, after all.

But then, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle started laughing at me. I must be developing a zit or something. I'll have to use some of that Noxzema stuff I saw Darth Vader advertise.

Fred and George won't tell me their plan. They say they want it to be a surprise for everyone - including me. I guess that's okay. I mean, I employed them so it'd be stupid of them to embarrass me - I'm paying them 20 Knuts for goodness' sakes!

Besides, I like surprises.

* * *

**10:20 pm**

Dear Diary,

I hate surprises.

I'm so embarrassed I don't think I can ever show my face again - and it wasn't even _my_ face shown in the first place! Not my _real_ face, I mean.

So, I let Fred and George go through with their plan to discredit/destroy Marcus, even without me knowing what the plan specifically, or even slightly, was - because, oh man, this would _not_ have happened if I did.

After practice today, I was studying in my room for the big Transfiguration test I have tomorrow - which is what I'm guessing Marcus was doing too - when someone locks me in! I didn't even know there _was_ a lock on that door!

I tried everything to get it open - spells, charms, running at it with a 2 x 4 - everything! Then I heard Fred say, "Keep it down! We put some extendable ears in your room so you could still listen in on all the fun."

I looked around and, sure enough, a pair of extendable ears was lying on my nightstand. (Were they there before?)

"We'll be two floors below you," George said.

"In the Great Hall," Fred chimed in.

I put on the ears and allowed them to drop down two floors. I listened intently. Less than 5 minutes passed and I heard Fred and George yelling at each other - except it didn't sound quite like Fred and George. It actually kind of sounded like Fred and George impersonating Marcus - and _me!_

"It is _so_ over between us, Marcus!"

"No! I love you, Katie, and I'll never let go!"

"Freaking-A, we're not in the Titanic."

"But Katie, I spread those rumors about you sleeping with the sixth years so we would be together!"

"Gasp! _You _spread those rumors!"

"Yes! And I paid Peter to break up with your best friend by claiming he loved you!"

"No way! That was you, too!"

"Yes! I admit it! And I'd do it again!"

"Forget it! I love Oliver Wood, now! So, back off!"

Well, everything was going fine up to then - as fine as one could expect from Fred and George, anyway. I would've been okay with them stopping right there, but no, they had to take it one step further.

"But you're pregnant with my baby!"

I heard several gasps over my own screams.

"It doesn't matter! Oliver Wood and I will raise it!"

"Fine! That's it! We're through! Hear that! Through! And I'm not paying child support!"

I heard him stalk away followed by heavy weeping - I think it was me - not _real_ me, but, you know, other, pregnant me.

"Marcus Flint is a jerk! I don't want his baby!" Another loud sob. "I'm having an abortion!" I heard myself running up the stairs, trip, then start running again.

Okay, so I'd been coping pretty well up until that point, but I couldn't help but to pound my head against the floor.

I knew Fred and George kept a spare cauldron of polyjuice in their closet for a rainy day, but I never thought they'd use it on me! I mean, I was their friend. I helped them with their homework practice... I _paid_ them! What are they thinking ruining me like this!

They're supposed to meet with me in an hour - must be so the polyjuice can wear off. I'll write more then.

* * *

**Midnight**

Dear Diary,

You would not believe Fred and George's explanation. They said that by saying I'm pregnant and Marcus refusing to pay child-support, I'll get all the benefits of being pitied.

Yeah, right. And all the humiliation of being impregnated by Marcus Flint!

And what about Oliver Wood? He's knocked on my door six times tonight but I couldn't face him so I told him to go away. If he didn't believe it before, he probably believes it now - you know, that I'm pregnant. I mean, I'm _not_ - people just think I am.

(And by Marcus Flint! Gross!)

I demanded that Fred and George fix this. I am not going to be thought of as a teen mother - or a non-teen mother due to an abortion.

I thought it was such a good idea to ask Fred and George to help me out. How did this back-fire?

* * *

**Thursday, November 16  
****Breakfast**

Dear Diary,

I tried to skip all my classes today, but Alicia pulled me out of bed muttering something about "a good education" and "providing for my child."

I tried to explain to her I was not pregnant, and she said she believed me, but she still looked at me like I was about to exhale and expose my melon-sized belly.

Now, at breakfast, everyone is staring at me! It's completely silent except for the sound of me writing here in my diary!

_And_ Oliver Wood is not sitting by me. I asked around but everyone says he felt sick this morning and was staying in his room.

Is he mad at me? Does he hate me? Should I go talk to him or will he give me the same treatment I gave him?

This silence is killing me! I've had it. I have to say it, diary, and then I'm talking to Oliver Wood whether he'll speak to me or not!

* * *

**Outside O.W.'s door**

Dear Diary,

That was horrible! I yelled out I wasn't pregnant to the entire student body - and the professors! I totally forgot they were there. Then I ran out of the hall, straight to Oliver Wood's door.

He hasn't let me in yet and I've been here for almost 20 minutes.

I guess I should knock.

But I'm scared he'll break up with me. I know I haven't been a very good girlfriend the past couple days - so, our whole relationship, I guess - but he's a really good boyfriend and I don't want to lose him.

Oh my gosh, diary, I think I might lo-

* * *

**Hogsmeade**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood and I are cutting class! It's so romantic.

You see, as I was writing in my diary, Oliver Wood opened his door to go to class, but when he saw me - actually, I fell on his feet because I was leaning on the door when he opened it - he said we should talk. And so, we did.

We talked about Marcus, and what Fred and George portrayed as Marcus and I, and my non-pregnancy, and even our relationship - like if we're technically boyfriend/girlfriend. I mean, I didn't want to start referring to him like that and then find out it was just a couple dates, or something.

I explained that I don't like Marcus, much less carry his baby, paying Fred and George for payback, resulting in its backfire, and that I really, really like him - Oliver Wood, I mean.

(Oh, that thing I was going to write but didn't - well, I was freaking out so I take it back - except I didn't actually write it - so, I guess this little note is pointless. Please disregard everything after "Oh.")

So, now, Oliver Wood and I are on really good ground. Not physically, but metaphorically. I mean, I'm sure we're on good ground physically, too. We're not falling through the floor or anything.

He said he didn't want to deal with the likely gossip we'd have to encounter so we should just take the day off. And so, here we are, in Hogsmeade, sipping butterbeer and munching on French toast.

Oh, he's coming back with the maple syrup. Gotta go!

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

We came back in time for Potions - yay. (FYI: I was being sarcastic.) We were each docked 20 points from Gryffindor and given a week's worth of detention for skipping classes, but it was so worth it.

After we ate, we played a little one-on-one Quidditch. It was a lot fun. We only came back because he remembered our practice would be cancelled if the captain didn't show up for classes today. (And that would be a tragedy - FYI: Sarcasm again.)

I'm thinking about taking back my earlier take-back. You know, the L-word.

Wait. _Not_ like the TV show. The other L-word.

* * *

**Arithmacy**

Dear Diary,

A group of girls just approached me about getting an abortion. They informed me there are other options out there and that an abortion is homicide and that they'd kill me if I killed my baby. I don't _have_ a baby! What am I going to do in 9 months when I _don't_ give birth?

They won't believe that I was never pregnant. And they laughed when I said I was a virgin. I am! Why's that so hard to believe!

You know, it just occurred to me, I wonder how Marcus is taking all this.

* * *

**7:56 pm  
****After dinner/supper**

Dear Diary,

Marcus was egged! He was leaving the Slytherin common room when this group of students threw 2 dozen raw eggs at him!

It was the same group that gave me a care basket full of baby clothes and fruit. How do these busybodies work so fast? I gotta get one to do my homework.

Back to Marcus, apparently he's allergic to eggs because his face puffed up like a squirrel ready to hibernate - a really ugly squirrel.

He ran off, covering his face. I know from experience it's a bad idea to run without looking, and now, so does Marcus. He was chased straight into a wall where he dropped into a lumpy, bloated heap.

I have to admit, even if he did spread dirty rumors about me and devised a plan to make Alicia end our friendship through lies and money, I felt a little sorry for him. I mean, he did just get put into an allergic reaction and humiliated himself by running into a wall.

I guess I got my revenge. It's not as satisfying as I'd originally thought it would be. I guess that's because everyone still thinks I'm pregnant.

* * *

**Friday, November 17  
****Charms**

Dear Diary,

Harry Potter doesn't have a crush on Oliver Wood - he has a crush on me!

I guess that means he's not gay. (Whoops.) I just thought that since he was acting so weird around Oliver Wood and I - and Oliver Wood being so hot - I figured Harry _must_ be gay.

Well, now I'm faced with a major dilemma: Harry Potter _likes_ me and I totally do _not_ like him - you know, that way. I like Oliver Wood that way. Harry Potter just doesn't compare.

Oh my gosh! It just occurred to me that this could turn into another Marcus-situation. I do not need that right now. People are still giving me Planned Parenthood pamphlets.

I suppose I could just wait it out and hope it'll all blow over. I'm sure it will eventually.

* * *

**Lunch**

Dear Diary,

Eventually is not soon enough. Now that Harry knows I know about his crush on me, it's like he's decided to go all out with it.

After Divination this morning, Harry ambushed me with a bouquet of lilies while Oliver Wood was standing right there! I mean, lilies are my favorite flower but it's creepy that he knew that.

Trelawney did mention something about seeing the face of the devil in my tea leaves. Did she mean Harry? With those binoculars he's always wearing, I don't think I would call him "devilish."

It was sweet in a eerie, stalker kind of way - the flowers, I mean - but then he had to go and ruin it by saying, "Katie, I don't care if you're pregnant with another man's baby. I'll raise it like my own if you'll just give me the chance."

He said this really loud, like it was more romantic that way or something, so everyone stopped and stared at us.

I did the only sensible thing - I dropped my flowers and slapped him. It was a good solid slap, too. It's still echoing the corridor as I write this. Oliver Wood pulled me away before I could do more damage, which is good because I would've regretted it. I already regret slapping him.

Poor Harry. He did embarrass me, but he is just a third year kid with a totally understandable crush on an attractive upperclassman. I really shouldn't have hit him like that.

Geez, I hope he doesn't cry.

* * *

**Divination**

Dear Diary,

After I wrote in you last, Oliver Wood sat by me in lunch and we started discussing what we should do for our date tonight.

Harry Potter showed up and started insulting Oliver Wood in an attempt to convince me he was a better choice - he was "the boy who lived", etc. (Bunch of Quatsch if you ask me.)

Anyway, Oliver Wood was handling it like a gentleman - actually, he seemed so shell-shocked by Harry's spontaneous bashing that he just wasn't doing anything. But then, Harry had insult Oliver Wood's mother, calling her fat and stuff.

Now, I've seen pictures of Oliver Wood's mom in the 80s and she was pretty chunky, but after unsuccessful diets followed by numerous liposuctions, she was looking pretty healthy today, but she was still really sensitive about her weight - and her son was even more so. It was just a bad idea to call Oliver Wood's mom fat. Just a _really_ bad idea.

"Your mom is so fat, she has more chins that a chinese phone book. Your mom is so fat, when she went to school, she sat next to _everybody_. Your mom is so fat, she- Ah!"

Oliver Wood punched Harry in the face. He would've done more if I hadn't stepped in.

"Stop, Oliver Wood! He's just a dumb kid."

"You heard what he said about my mother. You stupid nugget!" (A/N: "Nugget" means someone who isn't very clever, in scottish.)

I held him back allowing Harry enough time to get away. Once Harry was out of sight and Oliver Wood stopped struggling, we let go - well, it took more than just me to hold him back for that long.

"Why are you sticking up for him!"

"Because I don't want you to kill him."

"Oh. So you like him now, is that it?"

"What? No. I like yo-"

"No, you don't! You like that 'famous boy wonder'! That 'amazing, first-year seeker'! That bloody Harry Potter!"

Then he stomped off leaving me at the table with the rest of the student body watching.

How embarrassing.

* * *

**6:43 pm**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood and I made up!

Thank goodness. I was so upset over him being mad at me. I've never had a boyfriend yell at me before. Well, unless you count Marcus, and I don't. I'll have to add that one to my "bad experiences" list - right under "ran into a cement wall."

He said he was sorry for punching Harry. I said I was sorry for stopping him. He said he was sorry for yelling at me. I said I had nothing else to apologize for so we reconciled with a hug.

Reconcile: to cause or cease hostility or opposition. Also see: pacify, propitiate, placate. (Oliver Wood got me a "Word of the Day" calendar as part of his apology! I'm already excited for tomorrow!)

It was an awkward practice that followed, though. Harry Potter kept "bumping" into me. So, Oliver Wood kept "bashing" into Harry. (You know, that really didn't need the quotation marks - he really bashed into him.)

I told him to stop, but he said it was an honest mistake. I'm not entirely sure if I believe him, but I let it slide.

Oliver Wood and I are hanging out tonight and he'll be here soon, so I better go.

Oh! That's him, now.

* * *

**10:30 pm**

Dear Diary,

Harry Potter crashed our date!

Okay, the flowers, proclamation of his love, and insulting of my boyfriend's mother was one thing, but when he interrupts my Oliver Wood-time, Harry Potter is clearly pushing his luck.

Oliver Wood and I were sitting on the staircase - out of sight, of course - throwing the fruit I got from my pregnancy care basket at passer-byers. We were having loads of fun watching our confused classmates running in circles, when Harry Potter shows up right behind us.

I was like, "Oh... uh... hi, Harry." And he was like, "Hello, my love." And Oliver Wood didn't say anything, just ground his teeth. (He should really stop doing that. I don't think I could kiss him knowing he was wearing dentures or something.)

"What are you guys up to?" Harry asked, rather ignorantly, I might add.

"We're on a date, so..."

"So, go away!" Oliver Wood finished for me.

Harry looked hurt. "You mean you don't want me here?"

"Well, it is _our_ date." I gestured to Oliver Wood and myself.

Instead of walking away very defeated, as he should have, Harry looked angry and - dare I say it? - indignant!

"You can't shove me off, baby! I _own_ you!"

This baffled me. I mean, I always thought Harry was a few cards short of a full deck, but this was the weirdest outburst I'd seen of him yet. I wasn't sure how to respond, so I didn't. Oliver Wood responded instead.

"What? That doesn't even make sense. Go find your own girlfriend, Harry."

"But I did! Katie's mine! We've been in love for months now! Before Jonathan even!"

"You're lying, Harry. Go away."

"No! I'm not!" He turned to me. "Katie, back me up here. Weren't we in love months ago?"

All eyes were on me - well, Harry's and Oliver Wood's anyway.

"Uh... Harry, I really never saw you as anything more than a friend... ever."

He looked so heartbroken at that moment. I was tempted to go over and hug him, but Oliver Wood was holding me back - as if _I_ would be the one who needed holding back.

"But what about that time you asked me to help you with your flying?"

"I needed the help."

"You could've asked Oliver, but you asked me."

"You had the only Nimbus at the time."

I felt Oliver Wood's arms tighten when I said that. Sorry, Oliver Wood.

"What about the chocolates you gave me?"

"It was Halloween."

"You didn't give anyone else chocolates."

"I was out of Starburst."

"But the kiss! You must have meant that kiss!"

Again, Oliver Wood became somewhat stiff at the news of this.

"You dangled a mistle-toe in my face for, like, 10 minutes. I had to get to class."

That _was_ kind of weird, now that I think about it. What was Harry Potter doing with mistle-toe in the middle of September?

"So, none of it ever meant anything to you?"

"Not in the way you're hoping."

Then he did the most remarkable thing. He started crying! Harry Potter was bawling his eyes out like a three-year old who's invisible, best friend was recently hit by a bus - hey, it happened. I saw it on the Lifetime Channel.

This made me feel really bad. I mean, I felt bad when I spent the night at Alicia's and while she was in the bathroom, I accidentally killed her cat by dropping a paper-weight on its head, so I hid the body in her closet so I wouldn't get in trouble, then she found it a week later and has since been borderline-phobic of closets and cats. I mean, I felt bad about _that_, but I felt _really_ bad about Harry.

So, again, I had to open my big mouth - I just pitied the poor guy - and now I have a date with Harry Potter. To be honest, I'm not even sure how it happened, but the next thing I know, Harry is prancing down the staircase and Oliver Wood is looking very, very angry.

The way I'm running my life, I'll be dead by 18, I _swear.

* * *

_

**Saturday, November 18**

Isomorphic: Different in ancestry but having the same form or apperance. Hmm... I did not know that.

* * *

**11:30 am**

Dear Diary,

I spoke with Oliver Wood and he forgives me. He's still really angry with me going through with it at all, but he forgives me. I don't blame him. I'm really mad at myself too. Things were going really great with my new, hot boyfriend, and what do I do? I decide to go out with a 13-year-old, pre-pubecent geek who has a nameless evil-doer after him and keeps writing to his dog, Snuffles. (I'm recommending him to the school's counselor about that last one).

Well, it won't be all bad. I agreed to have Oliver Wood be my undercover, security guard, just in case Harry tries anything. I doubt I'll need it but it seems to make Oliver Wood happier about the situation. Alicia, Fred and George will be "hanging around" too. I think they're only coming to watch the fireworks, though.

What have I gotten myself into? I just hope he doesn't take me to Chuck E. Cheese or anything.

* * *

**10:20 pm  
****Hospital Wing**

Dear Diary,

I just got back from my "date" with Harry. You can imagine how well it went considering I'm writing this in the hospital wing - again! Geez, if I'm not fainting or knocking heads with walls, I'm out on a date with the likelyhood of being rendered unconscious. I should really just get one of those wristbands - you know, like diabetics have: "Warning: May need medical assistance when flying, walking, breathing, etc."

Anyway, like with Marcus, it started out fine, Harry took me to this ritzy restaurant that just opened outside Hogwarts. (Weird place to stick a restaurant, if you ask me.)

He told me to order first, which I did - 8 oz. steak with potatoes and fruit juice (soda gives me gas). Harry order the same. It made me wonder about his reading ability. I mean, he didn't even look at the menu. Why else would he order the same as me unless he couldn't read?

After the waiter - who looked kinda like Michael Jackson when he was black - left, Harry tried starting a conversation with me. Unfortunately, all he wanted to talk about was some cartoon show - You-gee-oh! or something.

"Then Kaiba pulls out his third Blue Eyes, White Dragon card and fuses it with the other two! It becomes the blah, blah, blah..."

It was really boring. I had to keep splashing my face with drinking water just to stay awake. He must have sensed my lack of interest - probably when I almost fell asleep in my jalapeno poppers.

Harry tried to changed the subject. He asked me about the cute, silver bracelet I was wearing - which totally matched my black Rolf Loran evening gown and J.C. Sickle high-heels. I told him Oliver Wood got it for me that day we skipped class. My mistake was not stopping there. I talked about Oliver Wood for the next half hour, barely breathing in between. Why Harry let it carry on for so long, I don't know, but eventually he just got fed up and exploded at me!

He told me it was our date and I should stop talking about other date/datees because it was really tacky, etc. - which I would totally agree with, under normal circumstances, but seeing as how Oliver Wood was my boyfriend, I didn't think I was breaking any rules by talking about him, even on a date with another guy. Well, then he had to go and be all, "Oliver Wood is a jerk," and "Oliver Wood wears womens' clothing," and "Oliver Wood-."

That's as far as he got before Oliver Wood - in men's apparal, I might add - jumped out of the bushes and tackled Harry Potter, strangling the life from him. He was followed by Fred and George trying to pry him off and Alicia taking pictures for the Hogwarts yearbook.

"You've insulted me for the last time!"

"You're existance is an insult!"

"That's the lamest come-back I've ever heard!"

"You're mom's the lamest- Ah!"

"Help me, George! Oliver's getting stronger!"

"I _am_ helping!"

"Stop! Stop!" I yelled, trying to break up the fight. Imagine my surprise when they actually listened to me. Fred and George let go of Oliver Wood, who refrained from beating up Harry, who felt his life no longer threatened and uncurled himself from the fetal position. They all seemed to look at me like I had more to say.

I didn't. "That's all I've got."

Oliver Wood didn't hesitate. I'd barely finished "-ot" when he drilled Harry Potter into the far wall with a left hook that would impress that guy Clint Eastwood played in Million Dollar Baby.

It was at this point that I blacked out. Fred and George said when Harry hit the wall, he set in motion a chain reaction that caused the chandelier _over_ my head to fall _onto_ my head. All I'm sure of is this splitting headache and shards of crystal that fall out of my hair every time I comb it.

Madame Pomfrey's turning out the lights now so I'll have to report more tomorrow.

* * *

**Sunday, November 19**

Consternate: to dismay, confuse, or terrify. I think I had this word confused with something else.

* * *

**10:26 am**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood visited me this morning. He said he felt really bad about the chandelier falling on my head, etc. He gave me this really nice silver-plated watch.

It has occurred to me that Oliver Wood has a lot of money. He's always buying me stuff. He told me has a job with above average pay, but... I don't know... what kind of job could he have that fits in between school hours and Quidditch practice and pays enought for a 90 galleon watch? (I checked the catalog.)

Could Oliver Wood be a gigolo! I mean, he's totally attractive enough. It would definitly explain the money and hours. Wow. I can't believe I'm dating a man-whore. He's probably slept with dozens of girls - girls from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff - gasp! - even Slytherin. He could be carrying STDs! What if he has AIDS! He did seem a little pale when I saw him earlier - like the skin color, not the bucket.

Poor Oliver Wood. I wonder how long he's had it. I wonder if Madame Pomfrey knows. Should I ask her? Probably not. Even if I did, there's no guarantee she'd give me an honest answer - because of that whole doctor/patient confidentiality thing.

I can't believe he hasn't told me yet. This is really something two people should discuss when they're in a relationship. I tell him every time I get just a blister, much less a terminal disease.

Whoa! _Terminal!_ Oliver Wood is going to die! But he's so young, and our romance is just beginning. He can't leave me right now - we've got a Quidditch match in 4 days! Besides that, he's really hot. There just aren't many good-looking Englishmen - and even _he's _Scottish. But still, his death could seriously hurt England's population. I mean, women aren't exactly going to be vying for the attention of Crabbe or Goyle.

Oh! Alicia's come to help me back to our dorm. I don't think I should tell her about Oliver Wood just yet. I still need time to think.

* * *

**12:16 am, no...pm, maybe...  
****A little after Noon**

Dear Diary,

I may have let it slip that Oliver Wood has AIDS. I totally did not mean to, but Alicia saw the watch and I found myself telling her everything.

Can you believe it? She said I was just over-reacting.

"This is a serious matter, Alicia," I told her, "We have to assume the worst."

"We don't know for a fact that he has AIDS. We don't even know if he's a gigolo."

"But the signs!"

"What signs?"

"Excessive money, late nights, lately I can't understand half of what he's saying. It's like gibberish. He's clearly losing his mind."

"Okay, 1.) the money could be from anything. His job, his parents, his piggy-bank, etc. 2.) The late nights you can't be sure about because you don't even see him after 9 at night. 3.) He's Scottish. _No one_ can understand half of what he's saying, because it _is_ gibberish."

She had a valid point - well, a valid three points. But that really didn't solve my problem.

"What should I do?"

"Have you _talked_ to him?"

"Yeah, _right_. He'd probably be mad at me for figuring it out. He's obviously keeping it from me for a reason."

"You're not even sure if he's keeping _anything_ from you. You know what? If you don't talk to him, I will."

"Okay, just don't mention my name."

What a friend. I just hope she asks him soon. I have a Herbology exam to study for and Oliver Wood has my notes. I don't want to ask for them back if he's dying. That's so rude.

* * *

**3:06 pm**

Dear Diary,

I ran into Harry Potter a little while ago. Quite literally, actually.

I was chasing Fred - or maybe George - because he'd stolen my plush, white jumper - that I'd only taken off for a second - and he wouldn't give it back. Well, just as I was rounding a corner - BAM! - I took out Harry Potter. I swear, that kid has to have some sort of internal bleeding, by now, with people hitting/slapping/running into him, all the time.

I apologized and tried to dash off before I got myself caught in another date. But he said he wanted to tell me something important. He'd already declared his love, so I figured nothing was likely to top that.

"I'm not in love with you, anymore."

That took me by surprise. "Okay."

"I love someone else."

"Oh, yeah? Who?"

"Cho Chang, from Ravenclaw."

I knew he was gay! I wonder if this Cho guy is too. I bet they'd make a cute couple. If they ever hook up, I am _so_ getting a picture.

"Oh. Well, I'm happy for you, Harry. It takes guts to come out of the closet."

He gave me a funny look and walked away.

Cute kid. He's a little weak in the intellect department, but he'll probably turn out alright.

* * *

**6:50 pm**

Dear Diary,

Somehow word got out that Oliver Wood is a gigolo with AIDS. It may have been Draco. He was in the hospital wing for another skin treatment this morning when I spoke with Alicia. He's a dirty rat. I wouldn't put it past him to spread it around school.

Oliver Wood doesn't know yet - about everyone else knowing, I mean. It would be awful if he didn't even know he had AIDS and then had to find out by some second-year, gossip girl. I can't imagine _anyone_ taking that too well.

I asked Alicia if she's talked with him yet and she said she was being sarcastic! _I_ have to go talk to him. Yeah, right. I'm sure that will go over really well, especially when I tell him the whole school knows.

Maybe if I just wait it out, the whole thing will blow over. (Don't judge me! I have a fear of confrontation.)

* * *

**Monday, November 20  
****Divination**

Peccant: 1.) sinning; guilty of moral offense. 2.) violating a rule; faulty; wrong. Yep, I'm definitely feeling some of that right now.

Dear Diary,

I am _so_ stupid - so very, very stupid. I really regret not taking Alicia's advice and just talking to him. Maybe then he would eventually talk to me someday. As it is, I doubt he'll ever even _look_ at me again.

Oliver Wood was late to breakfast this morning. I figured he was polishing his broom or something, but eventually he did show up and you could totally see the veins popping out of his forehead.

"Madame Hooch is suspending me from Quidditch until she has me tested for HIV. Apparently, someone has been spreading the rumor that I have AIDS. _And_ Professor McGonagall gave me a week of detention because she heard I was selling myself for money. I'd love to get my hands around the neck of the hawfwit who's talking mince about me." (A/N: "Hawfwit" means a moron and "mince" means nonsense, in scottish.)

"Well, the school has to keep its students safe," Percy said, "They're only security measures."

"But I'm not a gigolo. And I don't have AIDS. It doesn't make any sense why someone would tell people that."

This is why I don't play cards - I simply can't hold a poker face. My lip started quivering, my eyes started watering, and my face started to scrunch up like Renee Zellweger trying to pout.

"Katie? What's wrong? Are you ill?"

I shook my head. "I'm so sorry, Oliver Wood. I'm sooo, so sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

I sobbed. "I didn't know. I just figured, you know, that since you bought me all that stuff that you had so much money... and the late nights... I didn't... I just assumed..." I whimpered and couldn't continue.

But I didn't have to. He understood my meaning by that point.

"_You_ told people I had AIDS?"

I nodded.

"_You_ told people I was a gigolo?"

I nodded.

It was difficult to see anything clearly through my tears, but it wasn't hard to notice Oliver Wood's face turn red with anger and his lips tighten into a thin line - you'd almost think he was related to McGonagall.

He mechanically got up and walked out. I followed after him, trying to apologize and pleading for his forgiveness. He finally stopped and turned to me. I thought this was my chance, but he pointed where I was standing and ordered, "Stay," then continued walking.

I obeyed. I figured I owed him that much.

How did this get so out of hand so fast? It never even occurred to me that the teachers would get involved. It never even occurred to me that they'd even find out unless Oliver Wood told them.

You know, I heard in Japan people commit suicide to reclaim lost honor. I think I might try that. The worst that could happen is I die - and that really wouldn't be so bad, right now.

* * *

**Arithmacy**

Dear Diary,

He must hate me. I know he does. This is just so upsetting. I'm a terrible person. I can see him, now, leaning over a piece of parchment with a quill in his hand...

"Oh, Katie Bell, how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways: 1.) you told people I had AIDS, 2.) you told people I was a gigolo, 3.) you're an idiot, 4.) you're fat, 5.) your hair is gross and you should wash it more, 6.) green is _so_ not your color, so stop wearing it..."

Wait, that last part doesn't really sound like him. And it's definitely not improving my mood at all. Okay, inhale... exhale... think happy thoughts... chocolate, koala yummies, Percy dressed as Tinkerbell... Okay. Now, I'm okay.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh! I'm a terrible person! He _wasn't_ selling himself. He wasn't even _dying_. I am so stupid! I don't think I can ever get over this. I hope Oliver Wood can. It would really suck if he never talked to me again. What about Quidditch! How will we cope? Oh, man... I am _so_ getting benched.

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

We got our papers back today. I got a D! I can't believe it! I worked really hard on that paper. I even interviewed a real moonshiner! That paper was gold.

Well, I guess it was more bronze than gold. And the topic was actually the origin of moon_stone_, not moonshine. But I still think Snape just has it in for me. I mean, we did beat Slytherin the other night. He probably didn't even read my paper because he's holding a grudge, or something.

(Sigh). I really don't have the energy to complain. I'm still really upset over the Oliver Wood issue. On my way to class, I saw him in the hallway. I called out to him - and there's no way he didn't hear me with that mega-phone I borrowed from George - but he just kept walking.

I have to make it up to him. I have to convince him I'm sorry and I'm worth taking back. I don't know how, but I'm sure of one thing: Oliver Wood _will_ lo- er, like me again.

I'll make it a winter project - like the food can drive last year.

* * *

Do you like the second chapter as much as the first? Or did I do a Hollywood and you're going to ignore it's existance? Feel free to review!

Thanks for reading.: )


	3. The Bell Diaries III

Sorry it took so long to update, but I'm finally finished with the third chapter.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

I hope you like this chapter because I've been trying to finish it since school ended. This is the best I could do. (And please excuse my lack of poetic ability.)

* * *

**THE BELL DIARIES  
**CHAPTER III

**Tuesday, November 21  
****Defense Against the Dark Arts**

Dear Diary,

I am _so_ tired.

I stayed up half the night writing love notes and poetry for Oliver Wood. I know he's a guy but I'm sure even the male persuasion can get teary-eyed by some really beautiful words.

Here's some of what I've written:

Floopowder's white,  
Frog legs are green.  
Can you ever forgive me  
For being so mean?

Newt's eye is gross,  
Snape's hair is greasy,  
I'm sorry I ever  
said you were easy.

There once was a girl from Great Britain,  
whose boyfriend she thought went out pimpin'.  
Even though he is hot,  
He said, "Pimpin', I'm not,"  
And now, to being wrong, she's admittin'.

I know it's not worthy of Shakespeare or Picasso, but I think it's pretty decent.

I've already stuck three in his Divination Dream Book - did you know he _dreams_ about Quidditch too? -and two beside his broomstick. I also gave one to each Fred and George to drop in his stuff sometime during the day.

Step One of "Get Oliver Wood Back" is well under way. (Ooh, I'm still rhyming.)

* * *

**History of Magic**

Dear Diary,

He's throwing them away! All that time spent writing those words from the heart and he's not even looking at them! What a waste of parchment. I mean, seriously, it's bad enough farting cows are eating away at the O-zone layer leading to the melting of the polar ice-caps and flooding of the planet Earth, but now my (ex-?) boyfriend is indirectly causing the destruction of the rainforest thereby ridding the world all those cute animals I've seen on the Discovery Channel - not the bugs though. _Gross._

But those are muggle troubles. I have to worry about how I'm going to get Oliver Wood back. What am I going to do now that he isn't even _reading_ the notes I gave him?

Alicia said he needs time to cool off. I guess that makes sense. He's kind of like a cake. Sweet on the outside, sweet on the inside, and totally sexy when you add candles. Not ON Oliver Wood - I meant, like, in the background or something. The candles, that is. And okay, so maybe the cake isn't sexy, but Oliver Wood _so_ is. Even without candles.

Whoa. Major side-tracking. Back to the problem at hand, is two hours long enough for Oliver Wood to cool off? I mean, that's usually when I start to spread the frosting.

* * *

**Lunch**

Dear Diary,

Step Two went about as well as Step One of "Get Oliver Wood Back" - which basically means "well" is the wrong word to use.

I was sitting in History of Magic and an idea suddenly came to me - it would be totally romantic to sing to Oliver Wood - you know, like Heath Ledger did to Julia Stiles in _10 Things I Hate About You_. I love that movie, by the way. I cry everytime I watch Julia Stiles break down reading her 10 things she hates about Heath Ledger - although, how you could hate _anything_ about that guy is beyond me - ow, ow...

So, I had everything set up - the song memorized from repeated viewings of _10 Things I Hate About You_, my broom at the ready so I could literally _sweep_ Oliver Wood off his feet, and Lee Jordon controlling the background music (he owed me a favor from an incident involving Percy's bird and Miracle Whip).

The Great Hall was as busy as usual during lunchtime, but it quickly got quiet when the sound of my voice filled the room and a gentle instrumental followed.

"You're just too good to be true." Several confused faces looked around the room. "Can't take my eyes off of you." The confusion grew as I appeared in the entrance. "You'd be like _hea_-ven to touch. I wanna hold you _so_ much." I, gracefully, flew down the middle aisle toward Oliver Wood. "At long last, love has arrived, and I thank _God_ I'm alive." Halfway there! "You're just too _good_ to be true." I landed beside him. "Can't take my _eyes_ off of you." At "eyes," I winked and his face flushed red. _YES! I made Oliver Wood blush!_

I cued Lee Jordon and the da-da... da-da... da-DA-da-da music started. My hips swayed to each "da" until...

"I love you, BA-BY! And if it's quite alright, I need you, BA-BY! To warm the lonely night, I love you, ba-by!" I dropped to my knees. "Trust me when I saaaay..." I jumped to my feet again, and started belting out the words. "Oh pretty BA-BY! Don't bring me down, I pray, oh pretty ba-by! Now that I've found you," I took Oliver Wood's hand, "Stay, and let me love you, ba-by, let me looove yo-."

I would have started another chorus, but Oliver Wood shook my hand away, right then, and marched out madder than before.

Whoops.

On the bright side, most of the student body gave me a standing ovation and Dumbledore told me I should join the school's choir. I laughed because we don't have a choir.

_Do we!

* * *

_

**4:12 pm**

Dear Diary,

Hagrid told us during Magical Creatures that he's selling two of these really weird-looking fish. They have sharp teeth and round, beady eyes. He said muggles often keep them as pets.

That's when I remembered Oliver Wood likes fish. He had three goldfish and a newt or something swimming around in that giant water-bowl of his. This could be the perfect get-back-together present!

I bought one _pie-ron-uh_ and named it Harry (something about those eyes just reminded me of that nutter.) I stuck it in Oliver Wood's fish tank after class. Big mistake.

I really wish Hagrid would have mentioned that it ate other fish. I mean, excuse me for being naive, but I just thought all fish could live together happily in a worry-free community - you know, like the Brady Bunch or something. Although, I don't think I was _all_ wrong. Harry looked pretty worry-free once all the other fish were gone.

And as if it wasn't bad enough that I killed Oliver Wood's fish, he happened to walk in just as the last of his goldfish disappeared behind a row of silver fangs.

"Katie! What are you doing here? Where are my fish!"

I don't respond well to questions, so I put my hands on my hips and retorted, "I could ask you the same."

Oliver Wood's face became very tight and he started grinding his teeth. I took this as my cue to leave.

You know, all things considered, at least he's talking to me now.

* * *

**8:03 pm**

Dear Diary,

Well, _that_ was only the worst practice ever.

First off, Oliver Wood and I usually warm-up together. But since he isn't talking to me, he partnered up with Harry Potter (totally weird, I know). Alicia was warming-up with Angelina and Fred and George with each other, so I had no one to warm-up with! I had to do all the pre-practice exercises by myself. Typically, we make Harry do that - I mean, he's already a social outcast.

Then our actual practice began and I was majorly sucking because I hadn't warmed up properly. (How was I supposed to play catch correctly if I had to chase after the Quaffel everytime I threw it, followed by throwing it back to myself!) Oliver Wood kept yelling out orders, like usual, except today it was a lot of "Nice toss, Angelina," and "Great hit, Fred," for everyone else and, "You catch with _both_ hands, Bell," and, "The hoop is over 2 meters wide and the Quaffel is barely a half! This isn't some Carny trick - _aim better!_" for me. I think I liked it better when he was ignoring me.

At the end of every practice, we scrimmage. Today was no different. Well, I'd finally gotten into game-playing performance and so I easily managed to intercept the ball from Alicia. George knocked a bludger out of my way so I had a clear line to the left hoop. Oliver Wood was sitting at center, watching me. I knew his style of swooping down at the last second to make the save. This meant I should aim for a different hoop - where I'd have about as much chance of making it as I would here - or get as close as possible and try to score around him. I chose the ladder. (A/N: "Ladder", "latter" - it's a pun, get it?)

I flew like a bullet for the hoop, keeping my eyes open for Oliver Wood - but he wasn't there. I slowed to a dead stop and dropped the Quaffel through the hoop - and I do mean dropped because I got close enough to just stick my arm through and drop it in. Oliver Wood just sat on his broom with a completely blank face.

"Good practice, everyone. Don't forget: same time, Thursday," he said, flying down towards the school and totally ignoring how he'd just insulted me.

You, being a diary and all, can't possibly understand how mean that was - to not even _try_ to block someone's shot. It's like saying, "You aren't worth my energy, especially since I know I could take you anyway."

It is incredibly rude and, not just me, but the whole team was shocked Oliver Wood would do that - even to me. _Especially_ to me.

Alicia said not to worry about it. She said he's still probably upset over the AIDS and gigolo thing.

Whatever! That's not a valid excuse for treating me like that. If Quidditch had a rule book, rule number one would be: No insulting teammates by _not_ blocking their shots. Ahhhhhh! What a jerk. I am still fuming about the whole incident. (Incident: an event or occurance, especially of something unwanted.) In my rage, I've torn out almost a week's worth of vocabulary!

Wednesday - Verve: 1. vigor of ideas. 2. energy; enthusiasm. (Yeah, I got some verve for where I can shove a certain someone's broomstick.)

Thursday - Propinquity: 1. nearness in time or place. 2. nearness in relationship; kinship. (I am feeling _no_ propinquity towards Oliver Wood right now.)

Friday - Sepsis: poisoning caused by the absorbtion into the blood of pathogenic microorganisms. (_Poisoning_ you say?)

Saturday - Hypochondria: abnormal anxiety over one's health, often with imaginary illnesses and severe melancholy. (Uh... I'm out of witty remarks.)

I cannot believe Oliver Wood totally _burned_ me like that! I mean, I wrote him poetry, I serenaded him, I even bought him an awesome fish, for crying out loud! How could he still hate me like this?

Well, forget about "Get Oliver Wood Back." It's time to initiate Project: Take Oliver Wood Down - or as I like to call it - Project: TOWD. (A/N: Yes, that's pronounced like "toad.")

* * *

**10:47 pm**

Dear Diary,

I've enlisted the aid of Fred and George for Project: TOWD. They said, for a small fee, I can have access to any and all of their joke shop wares.

Ahhh... I love it when a plan comes together.

* * *

**Wednesday, November 22  
****Breakfast**

Dear Diary,

I enchanted Oliver Wood's toothpaste, this morning. Fred taught it to me. He said he used it on Percy a few times. I can't imagine Percy with technicolor teeth.

We also convinced Dobby to eat his Potion's homework - Oliver Wood's, that is, not Dobby's. We soaked it in Butterbeer and told him it was garbage. He sucked it up faster than Kirstie Alley on a twinkie.

I actually can't wait for class, just so I can see Snape's reaction. To Oliver Wood's missing homework, I mean, not Kirstie Alley.

* * *

**Breakfast**

Hehehe... That toothpaste idea was brilliant.

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood came to class late because he couldn't find his homework, then when he checked his room, he found Dobby still chewing on his textbook. He explained all this to Professor Snape.

Snape glared at him with the contempt of a pregnant cat, and said, "Are you implying a _house-elf_ ate your homework?"

Oliver Wood nodded, causing several Slytherin students to snicker. (Whoa, tongue-twister. Good think I'm writing it.)

"I understand completely." The class was silent in disbelief. "Just the other day, a _troll_ stole my podium." Everyone started laughing, although I don't know why. I mean, if a troll stole _my_ podium, I'd be pretty upset. But he has a podium now, so I guess he got it back.

Snape gave Oliver Wood two detentions for begin late and a zero for today's assignment. He also took 10 points from Gryffindor for lying. I totally forgot he could do that. (Sorry, Gryffindor house!)

Oliver Wood noticed me smirking. I hope I haven't been discovered already. I've barely used my Weasley resources.

* * *

**Charms**

Dear Diary,

Somebody switched my wand with a trick wand! So, instead of practicing spells - like everyone else - I'm stuck reading from the textbook in an attempt to "memorize how the spell _should_ be done," then practice on my own time.

Yeah, right. First of all, I have enough homework, Quidditch practice, etc. taking up all of my time, I'm not likely to be able to fit in Charms lessons, too. And, secondly, hello? I don't even _have_ a wand right now. It's been stolen - replaced - snatched right out from where ever the last place was that I'd put it. What kind of society do we live in where someone can just take a prized possession from right under your nose? It's just wrong... and sometimes disgusting. (A/N: This is in reference to Harry's battle with a troll in Book One.)

I mean, enchanting someone's toothpaste and making that same someone's homework get eaten is one thing. Pull a disappearing act with somebody's wand is another.

I wonder who did it. I have my suspicions, but-

Hey, speak of the devil. He's walking this way. What's _he_ got to look so angry about?

* * *

**Lunch**

Dear Diary,

Well, what do you think about that? Oliver Wood is under the impression I replaced his wand with a trick wand. I told him I didn't - which was the truth - not that he believed me.

"Quit lying, Katie. I know you've been pulling pranks on me all day."

I stood my ground. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He glared at me then reluctantly revealed the gay pride parade that was his mouth. I tried to control it, but I had to laugh. I mean, come on, I could actually picture Richard Simmons doing the macarena on Oliver Wood's molars.

"Okay, _that_ was me."

"And my Potion's homework?"

I shrugged. "Okay. So, that was me, too. But that's _all_ I did. I _swear_."

He looked at me like he had X-ray vision and could see through my lies, or something. Except that I hadn't told any lies, so the only thing he could see through was my school uniform - which is _so_ perverted, by the way, that I slapped him.

He had the indignity to ask me what that was for, but I just sneered at him and said, "Oh, I think you know."

I feel good - like I accomplished something for women everywhere, or something.

* * *

**Herbology**

Dear Diary,

I found my wand. It was in my cloak pocket - the left one, not the right one that I pulled the trick wand out of.

I still don't know who stuck that in my cloak. I'm not completely convinced that it _wasn't_ Oliver Wood, either. I mean, he could've had two trick wands and used one by mistake then tried to pin it on me. _Or_ he used it on purpose to try and convince me that he was innocent of the crime since the exact same prank was pulled on him! I'm not entirely sure what I just wrote, but it sounds bloody cunning. I didn't think Oliver Wood had it in him.

Of course, I didn't think he could shove me away like a dead skunk off the highway either, but he did. _And_ he knowingly insulted me in Quidditch in front of the team and my own face.

A nicer guy would have insulted me behind my back, like they do in Hollywood, and I'd discover it later - much to my shock and dismay - resulting in a big, public argument where we both say things we don't mean but reconcile after a couple days outside each others' arms. It would be totally Sweet Valley High, or something.

But no! Oliver Wood just subtly makes a fool of me. Geez, Oliver Wood is such an inconsiderate jerk.

* * *

(note attached in diary) 

Tasks for Project: TOWD:

- leave dung bombs in OW's underwear drawer

- stick Carary Creams among the Cream Puffs on OW's nightstand

- set off Filibuster Fireworks on Quidditch pitch just before practice

- replace his Bertie Botts Beans with real jelly beans

- use Fizzing Wizbees

- confer with Fred and George as to what Fizzing Wizbees are

(end of note)

* * *

**Thursday, November 23  
****Breakfast**

Dear Diary,

Fred and George managed to accomplish all the tasks - except the one about Fizzing Wizbees. They said it was too complicated for me to worry about. Whatever. I placed first in the city-wide Bogle tournament in my hometown. I think I could take on something that sounds like the after-effects of downing 9 liters of Sierra Mist.

Anyway, I've got to figure out whoever's playing practical jokes on me. This morning I woke up with the Death Mark crudely drawn on my forehead. People started hexing me! I was nearly unconcious when someone discovered my "Death Mark" could be smeared off. It was cheap lipstick - imagine that. I prefer lip gloss myself, but I'll wear a shade of Bitter Apple or Wine Red so long as it matches my new stilettos.

The mark is still a little stained on my forehead but you'd have to look for it to see it. I hope Harry Potter doesn't see me at all today. It was bad enough when he was after me for my attention. I don't need him burning me at the stake or whatever it is that creepy, wizard boys do to bad witches.

* * *

**Dark Arts**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood asked me to forgive him at breakfast this morning. I said no, what he did was unforgivable. But really, I think I was just shocked he was talking to me all of a sudden. I mean, he did ignore me for a few days. Plus I was pulling pranks on him left and right. I didn't think he was enjoying that.

He walked away really unhappy after I turned him down. I feel really bad! It's not just that I made Oliver Wood sad, it's that I actually _do_ want to get back together with him. I know I've been leaving dung bombs in his underwear and the like, but I still have feelings for him. And that stuff was just for revenge. I'm totally over it now!

Alicia says I should just go and talk to him. She told me that last time and look what happened. The school heard about his AIDS and gigoloism causing him to break up with me! Granted, I didn't actually follow her advice but... I don't know. I guess I'm running out of excuses.

I just don't want to talk to him. What if he yells at me? I hate yelling. My grandpa used to yell a lot. "What!" he'd say. Or "I can't hear you! Could you say it again!" It scared the bee-jeezes out of me. Especially when no one had said anything.

Maybe I should talk to him. Oliver Wood, I mean - not my grandpa. We've gotta set things straight once and for all.

...Right after lunch.

* * *

**History of Magic**

Dear Diary,

You know what? No, I will not forgive him just yet. I mean, he totally stringed me along for those few days he wasn't talking to me. I practically grovelled at his feet trying to get him to forgive me - but did he? No. And so I will not forgive him.

It takes a strong will to refuse Oliver Wood and I believe I'm proving that.

* * *

**Divination**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood approached me again. He said he really wants us to get back together. I told him no, again. I just can't see a future between us.

The truth is, I can. See a future, that is. I can see a perfect life with Oliver Wood, complete with a white picket fence, a few kids, and a water park in the backyard. He'd have a steady job as a dashing, European model and I'd be a stay-at-home mom complete with a permanent smile on my face. (I mean, who wouldn't have a permanent smile on their face being married to Oliver Wood?) I'd have dinner on the table by 6 o'clock every evening and Oliver Wood would pick up the kids from cello lessons and be home not a moment later. We'd be happy and loving and not about to stick Fizzing Wizbees under each others' pillows!

Oh, Oliver Wood, I'm so sorry.

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

I was rereading my last entry and I'm _not_ sorry. He should be groveling at my feet like I was doing for him. It's not right that I suffered such a humiliating day trying to make it up to him when in actuality, it was his fault all along! He never did tell me where he got all that money to buy all that stuff. He never explained what exactly his job was and how he managed to get one while enrolled at Hogwarts. He never even thanked me for getting that hoard of girls off his back by making them think he had AIDS.

Maybe once Oliver Wood takes some time to really show his love for me, then - and only then - will I return to him. Pff. Oliver Wood is about as romantic as a sponge sometimes. If he doesn't figure out that I want some sign of affection soon, I might start putting up flyers.

* * *

**11:03 pm**

Dear Diary,

I am thoroughly wowed. I mean, I did _not_ think Oliver Wood had it in him. He totally stole my idea, but he still _did_ it. And he did use a different song. It would've been really tacky if he'd used the same song. Plus the special effects made my little display the equivalent to a karaoke performance gone arry.

Alicia and I were sitting at the dinner table, wondering where everyone was - it was _dinner_, we're talking about. Fred and George were usually the first to arrive and the last to leave. Well, our questions were soon answered when the lights dimmed and a steady beat filled the Great Hall.

"Ouga Chaka, Ouga Ouga Ouga Chaka..." The Weasley twins and Lee Jordon were strutting down between the tables bobbing their bodies to each word. They were dressed in swank, 70s attire. I was stunned just by the fact that Fred and George managed to pick an outfit worthy of GQ. (A/N: Gentleman's Quarterly magazine.)

Then, a single beam of white light streamed down upon the empty entrance way and Oliver Wood stepped into it wearing a totally vintage, blue suit, holding a mike and gazed into the crowd with a stone face. He began to sing, "I can't stop this feeling... deep inside of me." He looked straight at me. "Girl, you just don't realize... what you do to me." He started walking towards me - in a very suave manner, I might add. "When you hold me, in your arms so tight. You let me know, everything's alright." Lights from both sides of the hall lit up, startling me half out of my seat. "Ahahahah-I'm hooked on a feeling." A little tuned played in the back. "I'm high on believing." It played again. "That you're in love with _meee_."

He apparated in front of me - because seventh years can do that - kneeling and hovering his finger to trace my lips. "Lips as sweet as candy... their taste stays on my mind." Whoa, I didn't realize I had such an effect on the guy. Must be the strawberry lip gloss. "Girl, you keep me thirsty... for another cup of wine."

He stood up and held his arm out towards me - his other arm, of course, was busy holding the mike. "I got it bad for you, girl... but I don't need a cure." Cure? I'm not a disease. "I'll just stay addicted." So, now I'm a drug? "If I can endure." He grasped his heart like he was in pain. "All the good love... when we're all alone." He wiggled his eyebrows, making me blush. "Keep it up, girl... yeah, you turn me on." The lights did a cool strobe-thing before settling on Oliver Wood again.

"Ahahahah-I'm hooked on a feeling!" He was really convincing by this point - you know, with the veins sticking out of his neck and all. "I'm high on believing!" Is that suit his? He looks really good in it. "That you're in love with me." He knelt down at eye-level with me and snapped his fingers. The mike he was holding turned into a purple lily - ahhhh... My favorite color's lavender but I'll definately settle for purple when it's from Oliver Wood.

"So," Oliver Wood was breathing quite heavily by now, but the mike was gone so only those near us could hear him - although, the "Ouga, Chaka" was still being chanted in the background. "Will you forgive me? Katie?"

I had tears in my eyes at this point - which was really bad because I was not wearing my water-proof mascara. "Oh my gosh!" I wrapped my arms around Oliver Wood's neck. "I love you, Oliver Wood!"

Yes, I used the L word. The dreaded L word that I'd been so worried about using. But everything turned out okay. I don't think I scared him off like I'd initially thought might happen upon saying it. We have a date tomorrow night and he also asked me to attend the Yule Ball with him. That's not the signal of a fleeting doe, is it?

Obviously, Oliver Wood has a much better hold on this commitment thing than even I do - and I've read all those self-help books! (Thanks a lot, Dr. Thomas A. Harris, M.D. Yeah, I'm OK. Are you sure _you're_ OK?)

Oliver Wood and I spent the rest of the night communicating - you know, like we should've done since the beginning? Well, it turns out that he didn't even spend much on some of the stuff he gave me. Not that he stole it. I just mean, well, like the watch - he got it as a very early Christmas present from his grandmother who seemed to think it would look "very lovely on his thin figure." Okay, she obviously hasn't seen him lately because he does not have a "thin figure." I would say he is "well rounded," and I am _not_ speaking metaphorically. Oliver Wood thought it was too feminine for his tastes - which I totally agree with since there are little hearts engraved around the numbers - so he gave the watch to me, thinking I'd get better use of it.

The Word-of-the-Day calender he actually did buy me, but at clearance price seeing as how it was already November. I guess I could've figured that out - I mean, who sells two-month calenders?

The bracelet that he got for me during our Hogsmeade outting was the only item he bought for me in doting-boyfriend-fashion, which kind of says to me that he really isn't spending the mass amounts of money on me as I'd thought he was. But it still didn't explain this supposed _job_ he managed to maintain between school and Quidditch.

"Well," he looked around like he didn't want anyone to overhear, "I've been working for Filch."

"Filch?" I didn't say this very loudly - since he didn't seem to want other people to know - but he shushed me anyway.

"I've been helping him with some... stuff, for about a month now. He's been paying me... enough. It's not gigolo work and I do not have AIDS."

This was still a very vague answer and I asked him to give more details but he wouldn't give more specifics than that. I decided not to push it - seeing as how we had just made up after a four-day separation (I'm counting today because we didn't reconcile until supper).

* * *

**Friday, November 24  
****Divination**

Dear Diary,

Oliver Wood and I ate lunch together again. It was a hard week not being able to eat lunch across from the boy I love - yes, love! I'm really enjoying this word. Although, I should probably tone it down some. I've received a few funny looks from the first-years - and they're the ones who usually _get_ the funny looks.

That Death Mark is finally going away, but instead, I woke up to a wet bed! After a decade and a half of not wetting the bed, I was kind of shocked to discover soaked sheets. It was soon apparent, however, that someone had just dumped a bucket of water on me while I was sleeping.

Okay, this practical joke thing is getting pretty old. I seriously freaked out there for a second. It's not fun to discover wet pajamas when you're 16. Also when you're shrieks wake up you room mates bringing even more attention to the supposed "accident." I reassured everyone that it was a practical joke, but I think Alicia is the only one who believes me.

This sucks. I wish this prankster would get off my case and terrorize someone more deserving - like Marcus Flint who still glares at me whenever I hold Oliver Wood's hand. Maybe I'll ask Fred and George to help me out, even if it didn't work out quite so well last time. They're still the prank masters, after all.

You know what I totally forgot about until Oliver Wood brought it up? The Yule Ball! I'm usually on top of this. I mean, it's like the only party Hogwartz has! How did I forget? Well, anyway, I'm taking Alicia and Angelina out to buy some dresses tomorrow. I'd go tonight but Oliver Wood and I have a date - _finally!_

I'm not really sure what he's got planned for tonight. I'm, of course, assuming he has something planned. _I_ certainly don't. We've been to Hogsmeade a few times so I would think that's out. We played chess that one time and it was a complete bust. We went to that little-league Quidditch match, but I think it'd be dangerous to take me there again - too many cute asian children. I ran out of fruit so we can't throw it anyone again - besides, I think they've figured out where we were firing it from because I've seen teachers occasionally patrol that section. So, that pretty much leaves us nothing to do.

I've decided not to be worried about it. Oliver Wood is very creative and, therefore, will have something magical - no pun intended - planned for us. I'm sure of it.

* * *

**Arithmacy**

Dear Diary,

I questioned Oliver Wood again about his involvement with Filch. He gave me no more information than yesterday. It worries me that he won't reveal to me what he's doing. Doesn't he trust me?

Alicia says it's hard for him to trust me right now, especially since I recently let it out that he was a gigolo with AIDS when, in fact, he was not. I guess that makes sense, but it really doesn't put my mind particularly at ease. I mean, how can we fully commit to this relationship if he's not trusting me?

Alicia also mentioned how I'd just revealed to her that he was working for Filch which was exactly what Oliver Wood asked me not to do. This also gives him a reason not to tell me. Yeah, right. How could he _not_ expect me to tell my best friend? At least I'm not parading it down the hall with a huge banner like I've heard certain bleached-blonde, evil third-year has done. (Percy told me about it after he'd confiscated the banner.)

Well, in any case, I think I'm going to have to find out what Oliver Wood is doing, one way or another. Alicia says this will lead to more trouble. I think it might, too, but I'm willing to risk it in the name of love.

* * *

**Still in Arithmacy**

Dear Diary,

Oh my gosh! It has occured to me that Oliver Wood could be like a superhero or something. It would totally explain the not telling me what he's doing every night, athleticism, and that save-lives-for-the-well-being-of-the-planet personality. Okay, so I kinda made that last one up. But I have seen Oliver Wood rescue a little girl from a near-fatal collision with a bludger.

I wonder what his back-story is. I mean, Batman's parents were killed in front of his innocent eyes. Superman was sent to Earth after his home planet of Krypton, and everyone on it, exploded. The Flash - one of them, anyway - had a shelf of chemicals fall on him after a lightning bolt struck it down - I am _not_ going to explain that. So, Oliver Wood must have some sort of tragedy/life-changing event to make him crusade each night fighting for justice in some technicolor tights (his teeth have regained their usual pearly shade, by the way.)

This could totally put a crutch in our relationship again. And it was just picking itself up!

I think I'll confer with Alicia before I make any kind of assumption.

* * *

(note taped in diary) 

I think Oliver Wood is a superhero.

_What!_

What do you mean, "what"? I wrote it down.

_I mean, what are you smoking, because there is no way Oliver Wood is a superhero._

But what about that job he won't tell me about? And you know I don't smoke. That is like, so bad for your complexion.

_Katie, maybe he just doesn't want you to know because it's embarrassing or illegal or something._

Illegal! Are you suggesting Oliver Wood is one of the bad guys?

_No. I just mean it could mean he's doing something that the Ministry of Magic doesn't want students doing. You know how they are. They're the ones who instilled that "no magic outside of school" rule._

I still don't follow.

_Maybe he can do something that Filch can't. He's a squib, you know. He can't do magic._

Then why doesn't he just ask one of the teachers?

_Maybe Filch is embarrassed to admit to Dumbledore that he can't do something because he was born without magical abilities._

So he hires a student?

_Okay, so my theory isn't water-tight, but it's better than your "superhero" idea._

Hey, that idea isn't completely unbelievable.

_Superheros are fictional characters!_

So are we! (A/N: Haha... I just had to put that in there. Pretend she didn't say that.)

So what? It could happen.

Alicia?

(end of note)

* * *

**Potions**

Dear Diary,

Alicia won't talk to me. She says she's tired of my antics and needs a well-deserved vacation. Whatever. I think she's suffering from PMS. I know that's totally hypocritical of me - since I really hate whenever someone of the female persuasion gets mad and it's excused with, "They can't help it - it's that time of the month." What a bunch of stupid, demeaning...

Okay, I retract my earlier statement. Alicia is not suffering from PMS, she just feels angry - like the rest of the human race does sometimes. And it probably _is_ because of my "antics." I tend to jump to conclusions a lot.

Maybe I should just let this whole boyfriend's-job-thing go. I mean, he told me he's not sleeping with other girls for money, so I guess I can rest assured.

(note to self: look up "antics.")

* * *

**Dinner/supper**

Dear Diary,

When I told Alicia I've decided to let the Oliver Wood keep his job a secret, she started talking to me again. Which was very beneficial since I seemed to have completely zoned out during Potions and I have no idea what the homework was.

Well, the unknown, wand-switching, face-painting, and all-around-pain-in-the-neck culprit has struck again. This time, he has poisoned my water - yes, my water. (Is nothing sacred to this lunatic?)

I was discussing the final level of Zelda: Ocarina of Time with Angelina - have you _seen_ Ganondorf. Can you say, "Extreme Makeover"? - when I took a sip from my water bottle - which I always carry around with me because you never know who's been sticking their mouth over those public drinking fountains. (_Gross!_) Anyway, I took a sip and was horrified to discover a tingly sensation on my tongue. Carbonation! Someone had switched my ice cold Aquafina with a bottle of bubbly Diet Sprite. That is like, _so_ bad for your skin! I mean, at least it's diet, but still, I could totally break out in a day or two.

I'm not sure what to do any more. Okay, so I really haven't done anything yet, but I'm at a loss for the correct course of action. It's not like the old Mario Bros. games for NES where you can only take one path or it's Game Over. I'm at Game Over and I'm still losing life points! There's no mushrooms or 1ups for me. No, sir, I've been ambushed by the Koopa Troopas - beaten by the boss - swallowed by that big fish in level 4.

Okay, so enough with the video game analigies analogees anl- references. I am at a complete loss of ideas as to how to handle this guy who's obviously obsessed with ruining my life.

Gasp! What if he destroys my Star Trek action figures collection!

* * *

**7:02 pm**

Action figures are safe. I've hid them in my Easy Bake Oven. Don't worry, I took out the batteries. Must nowfreshen up for date with Oliver Wood.

* * *

**Just After Midnight**

I love Oliver Wood. He is such a good boyfriend. Definitely more romantic than a sponge.

For our first date since our semi-break-up, he brought me to the library. Totally unromantic and I was shocked he'd actually taken us to a place with dusty, old books and zero heating - even at this point in the winter.

He led me to the Fiction section in the back where we caught Percy and Penelope Clearwater making out. (And all this time I thought Percy went to the library to study.) They quickly dashed off to the Historical Landmarks section muttering something about their Ancient Ruins project. As if. Percy doesn't even _have_ Ancient Ruins.

Anyway, Oliver Wood started scanning the books up and down the rows. Finally, he pulled out this red and brown book with gold, lacey print. It was a book of fairy tales, which I had assumed he was going to read to me. Not that I'm against fairy tales or anything, but the last I was read to, I was 4 and needed something to put me to sleep. This was not an evening I'd envisioned for Oliver Wood and I - at least not until we had children.

But that wasn't his plan. Oliver Wood opened the book to a page he must have bookmarked. It was Aladdin and the Magic Lamp - only my favorite Disney movie ever! He set the book on a shelf and took my hand. With his other hand - which held his wand - he tapped the book three times, chanted something that sounded like "toupee string beans" and we were suddenly transported into the book!

It was so cool. I got sand in my Doc Martins, but it was still totally cool.

Oliver Wood led me into one of those clay houses I've seen in National Geographic and he pulled out this purple tapestry. My first thought was, "Ew." I mean, you could still see butt marks from the last guy that sat on it. But Oliver Wood did another little spell and the fabric became as vibrant as when it was first made - or so I assume because I was not there when it was first made - and it started floating! That's right, Oliver Wood took me on a magic carpet ride.

Magic. Carpet. Ride.

I have the BEST BOYFRIEND EVER!

We flew past that big palace the Sultan lives in. That was way trippy seeing it _not_ in cartoon form. Then we flew over the desert - which is actually very large when seen from an aerial view - and saw this guy riding a camel. We filled up the water-balloons I had in my pocket - you never know when a water war is going to break loose - and filled them up in this narrow river. Then we bombed that guy riding a camel with the balloons. It was a total Kodak moment. He looked like the sky was falling or something.

Anyway, we flew around some more, water-bombing other innocent bystanders and occasionally stopping to "study" like Percy and Penelope. But apparently the spell only lasts until midnight - kind of like Cinderella and her slippers - so we were zapped back into the library with a rude _plop_ and slight heartburn.

Oliver Wood and I had to sneek back into our dormitories because it was well past curfew. We were almost caught by Filch - and I could've sworn he'd seen us - but he looked the other way and we made our escape into the Gryffindor common room.

I can't believe Oliver Wood took me on a magic carpet ride! I mean, I know we ride on our brooms all the time but it's totally different on carpet. For one thing, there's way more cushion. I can't tell you the number of times I've had to sit on ice after a hard Quidditch match. _So_ not fun.

* * *

Good? Bad? Ugly? Please review. To those who_ have_ reviewed. Thank you and please review again. : )

I am aware that there are several inconsistancies in my story - such as the timeline inreference to Fred's and George's prank inventionsand the Yule Ball, but it's a fictional story so cut me some slack. And I know that they've never been able to transport into a book in the Harry Potter books, but seriously, what do witches and wizards do in their free time? Except save the world from Lord Voldie's domination? I had to come up with something. Well, anyway, my point is to just go with it. It'll be more enjoyable that way. I suppose I could've put this at the beginning, you know, _before_ you read the story. But, whatever.

Also, one last note. My other story, Three's Company Story I and II with Tom Riddle, Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley, is simply not being read. It's just not right because those stories are brilliant and I encourage you all to read them. So, right after you review this story, make sure you go and do that.

Thanks for reading. : )


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